London Calling
by Dark Antid0te
Summary: There's something Jane learned, after she was forced to give up being a Homicide Detective, after she wallowed about in self pity, after she met Sherlock Holmes, it goes as follows: Psychopaths are not crazy. Sociopaths feel emotions and Narcissistic Twats like her really need to observe and think more. If she had, it could have saved her and everyone else a life time of trouble.
1. Chapter 1

**_I don't own BBC Sherlock._**

**_Warriors, The Spooks, Skulduggery Pleasant, The Fault in our Stars or Divergent are used on,yfor reference purposes. _**

**_I hope you enjoy my short series that I plan to write. Reviews are very helped. :)_**

A soft yet cool breeze drifted in through the open door along with the dim clang of wind chimes, the tall girl shuffled in her seat, struggling to fit her lean legs beneath her in the chair for warmth. Her long fingers brushed at the corners of the book pages, scraping and folding it against her finger pads which would slowly begin to ache and bruise. Though she'd never be able to stop it.

It was quiet in the back of the small library, only faint murmurs of people asking or buying at the desk, the padding of feet on the carpet and the occasional child call. The door to the library was left open for customers, though it let in London's cool winds the girl couldn't help but love the calm and relaxing shiver of wind chimes.

She sat on a comfy green one-seater couch in 'her' corner, as she called it. With a low wooden desk and a low lamp beside it.

As usual, life got in the way and she had to retreat to fiction which never helped the problem but she wouldn't ever stop. In the back of her mind, she could hear bristles of the word, coward, at running from her problems without so much as a look over. It made her depressed to come out of the books and have to finally face the remnants of the situation, she'd just try to scramble back into her hole.

You couldn't blame her though, after moving out and getting a flat of her own she struggled to find a job, even though she had an ATAR score of 96. She could never really stick, she had been studying to be a homicide detective, it had been her dream ever since she was twelve. She knew how to use a gun, had all the proper training, knew her forensics and phycology. But on her first actual case she nearly had to use her gun and her mother pulled her out of the job she had tried so desperately to get.

They never got along after that, her own mum had left her to find another job after years of study. Though she also wished to be an author, she wrote and wrote but every time she got a few days into writing, she got bored and left it. It was a repeating cycle that got her nowhere.

At the time being she was working at the library she was sitting in now, though it was her day off. It didn't pay much at all, she could hardly afford her flat. Her dad and one of her older brothers gave her some money to get back on her feet after having to quit her job but now it seemed, at the age of twenty six, all hope was lost.

So, naturally, she read her problems away.

She was nearly finished re reading the four Warriors series, having not read it for near three years, after that she'd probably go back to The Spooks or Skulduggery Pleasant maybe even Divergent or The Fault in our Stars since she had been planning to get around and read them.

In the middle of a battle scene, she felt a breath of her neck clearly having not noticed someone walk up.

"Cats?" Came the amused and impetuous voice of Ellis.

"Yes, cats." She retorted, glaring at the book, "Problem?"

"Lionblaze whipped around as-" Ellis read out loud.

"Shut up, they're national bestsellers and very good books, go away."

"Oh calm down Jane, I'm only teasing."

Ellis was one of her very few friends that she had met at the library a year ago, they worked together and helped each other out financially as best they could.

Sighing and folding the corner of the page in her original bookmark style, she shut the book with more passion than necessary and look up at her friend.

Green eyes met Jane's grey/blue, "I know its your day off but Sam called in sick and I may need to help out someone for a little, would you mind working for an hour or two?"

It seemed reasonable and though her skin itched to continue reading she couldn't turn down her friend though if it had been someone else, her narcissism would have shut over her eyes. Ellis had been the only real friend to actually stay with her through her Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

"Yeah sure."

"By the way, theres a hot looking guy and his cute little friend that entered just before." Ellis nudged her and winked twice.

Jane got up, stretching her stiff limbs and shaking away pins and needles in her foot, "I'm not interested in relationships Ellis, you know that."

"Aw but come on, it'd do you good. Go on one date!"

"I don't even know these people, let alone even seen them." Jane pulled on her dark button up coat and retrieved her white scarf before tying it loosely around her neck.

"Fine, greet them and ask if they need any help with anything, if you start a conversation, you enjoy it. Remember you pick one, then come back to me." Ellis gave her a wink again and pushed back her short, brown hair as the wind stirred it from the door.

"Its cold up front," She then muttered as Jane pulled on a white beanie, stray, loose strands of black hair hung on each side of her face.

"I know, thats why I'm putting on this, you know, we could just shut the damn door." She scowled as they walked through the isles to the desk.

"Toby didn't want us too, it apparently looks uninviting."

"Oh boo hoo, its uninviting anyway if it ices over in here."

They reached the desk and Jane headed towards the glass cup with all the name tags in it, finding hers she clipped it on and turned around.

Ellis looked her over, "Good, good. But you need to wear some make up my girl."

"What for?"

Not waiting for a reply, Jane smirked and went out back to grab returned books to sort to place back in the shelves.

She flicked on the faltering light bulb hanging from the ceiling and made her way to the pile of returned books, slowly placing them one by one onto the wheelie tray until they were stacked by alphabetical order.

Honestly, she didn't want to meet these people, she had social anxiety. She could be perfectly fine in a crowd by just couldn't talk to anyone. If they talked to her, she could mumble a response or bravely answer them if it meant them leaving but other than that...

Jane preferred the back room, it was silent and warm and the smell of books filled the air along with wood scents from the walls and floor. So taking a long as she possibly could her heart sunk in dismay when she released she was finished. It had taken her twenty minutes and she hoped against hope that the two people were gone so she didn't have to face them and back down Ellis.

Rolling out the cart back into the library, the ice cracked air tore at her bare patches of skin for a few moments until her flesh eased and grew used to it. Shivering suddenly, she continued to the A-Fiction section of the library.

So far no "hot and cute" guys, breathing a sigh of relief she reached her destination and began to sort the books in place on the shelf. It didn't take too long and she then moved onto B which was on the other side of the shelf.

As she carted around the corner into the next isle, goosebumps of anxiety rippled her skin when she noticed two men browsing and talking to each other in seemingly sharp, hushed tones.

One of the them was rather tall, she couldn't see much of his face as they were turned to the side but she could defiantly admire the high and sharp cheekbones beneath pale skin and under dark curls. He wore a long, black coat and Jane could see a dark blue scarf tied about his neck. Black suit pants and shoes, he seemed rather...posh yet mysterious. She hoped to god he wasn't some sort of a paedophile with that coat.

He must be the "hot" one Ellis mentioned. Jane rarely found people that appealed to her, she'd only ever seen four guys that seemed attractive. She supposed it now dinged to five but that didn't mean she wanted a relationship, no no no.

His friend however was a head shorter, with blonde hair and hard...yet soft features as they somehow blended. He had broad shoulders and a strong stance, wearing a jumper, pants and just some ordinary shoes. But Ellis was right, he was rather cute.

Having only been looking for a few moments she turned quickly and began sorting the B-Fiction books. Her ears managed to pick up some of the conversation.

"Why are we here Sherlock? This is the first time we've ever come to this library."

"You have to go someone for a first time if you're ever going to go there at all John, really, you're a little daft sometimes."

Deep voice. Handsome voice. She'd call it pretty but that'd downgrade him, she guessed that was the voice of Mr Paedophile Coat Guy.

"Why are we here?"

"Oh..just browsing."

It was then. When she had nearly finished with the B books that she felt a pair of eyes on her neck, refusing to look as she knew she'd get panicked, she continued with her job.

It took a while but eventually the eyes left, though it felt like they left a permanent burn, and their footsteps receded.

Her chest felt rather tight as she left out a breath, she hated attention, despised it, hated being stared at.

Finishing off B, she went around to D as there were no C's, dragging her feet on the ground and wishing for this hour to be over with so she could run and hide somewhere, reading and get away from the incessant nagging of getting a relationship.

Then she remembered with a quiet curse, "Shit." That she had left her book on the table beside the chair in the corner. If anyone stole it, Jane thought, I'll kill them. Leaving the cart of books by the side panel of a shelf, she quickly headed over to her corner, stopping with a sudden fright when she noticed it was gone.

"God dammit."

And then, a deep voice sounded by her ear, a breath on her neck and the scent of an intoxicating cologne. Clear this man had no personal space issues. "Loose something?"

Turning, she came face to face with cheekbone man, up close and actually in front of her he looked even better and oh god his eyes.

They were a sharp blue with tinges of green and utterly breath taking, his lips were also a trade mark feature, what were they called again? Cupids bow lips?

His face close up seemed carved, his prominent cheekbones defining it with severity. Yeah, he was hot. She agreed silently to Ellis, but he seemed much older than her. Dating was off the table, she didn't want it.

Blinking, she stuttered slightly, anxiety swamping her. "Y-yeah. Thanks."

He looked down at the book, the corners of his mouth twitching up ever so slightly, "Cats, eh?"

That was the second time today, "Its a very good series."

"Yes." Was all he replied with, finally handing her the book with gloved hands.

Coughing, she tried a forced, awkward smile and took it, muttering thanks before standing like an idiot un sure as what to do.

"I have to um, get back to-" She tried but was interrupted by his friend who came swiftly over.

"Stop terrorising people Sherlock," He said sternly as if this man were a child before turning to Jane, "Sorry about him, if he...did anything." Once again his gaze turned back to the tall man with narrowed eyes. He also had blue eyes, but they were light and soft.

"I was merely returning her book." The man supposedly named Sherlock replied, shrugging before taking off his right glove and holding out a hand to her, it was rather large with long fingers.

Even more anxious, she took it, hating hand shakes.

His eyes bore into her actions as if he were some sort of a judge, looking to the side as she shook her hand she noticed a recognisable object in the back side of the short mans jeans.

Reality seemed to freeze and suddenly she was back on her first proper case.

"Get down, now! " She had screamed with authority, her gun held in two hands with barely a shakes and pointed at the stomach of the seemingly mad man a few meters in front of her. This was secretly what she had wanted, the danger, the excitement, it was utterly intoxicating and addictive. Of course she was still rather fearful at what this man would do but right now she was in control.

The man with the red ringed eyes, short black hair and thin, straggly figure bent into an slight crouch, his fight hand gripping desperately around a syringe filled with blood. If he came at her, she didn't want to kill him, she had to incapacitate him. Aim for the abdomen or the legs.

"I said, get on the ground!"

But her order went ignored as he suddenly shot up and bounded forward like a rabid dog, his fist with the syringe up to stab into her. She clocked back the safety, cursing herself for not doing it sooner and tried to aim lower, she couldn't kill someone.

But he was too close now, even if she did shoot him and before she could take the shot, her colleague slammed into her, sending them both to the ground as the mad man stumbled suddenly and tripped.

She got up quickly and ran over, kneeling on his back and handcuffing his hands, her gun had scattered on the edge of the empty pool to her left.

Her colleague, now also up, kicked away the syringe from his hands and helped me drag him up.

After that, thrilling, case. She was forced to leave. She never forgave her mum.

Blinking back into reality, she realised she had been staring at the gun in this mans jacket for a longer period of time than it took to shake Sherlocks hand.

Jane's hand still gripped his, who was looking down at her in hard curiosity and the shirt man shuffled nervously, hiding the weapon from sight. She swallowed, blinking again and let go.

The blonde haired man and her both apologised at the same time. Why he had a gun, she didn't know but they didn't seem very...threatening.

Clearing her throat she forced another smile, "Right well. It was uh, nice meeting you. I should get back to uh-" she trailed off, nodding slightly and turning to walk away.

But that damned deep voice stopped her in her tracks again, "Why didn't you just ignore your mother? She couldn't exactly force you out, you're a legal adult."

Jane froze, how the hell?

"Sherlock." The other mans voice warned.

She turned and looked at Sherlock with her own cold look, "How do you know about that?"

"Oh its simple really, you're clearly anxious all round, so that rules out a fear of seeing a gun along with the fact you didn't seem very threatened when you walked off. If I hadn't interrupted you, you would have continued with work. So not fear but I suppose you've been in a situation that involved a gun." He paused, raking his eyes over her in less than a second before continuing, "You're well muscled, lean and fit. Theres a lot of people who are fit, sure, but that sort of figure comes with training, rather like John here."

John glared.

"You walk in a way that says you weren't military trained exactly but defiantly trained for self defence and strict attributes to fighting, strength and how to handle a gun. That rules out a lot of job possibilities, so if you're not trained for military work than I'd say something in the force. Scotland Yard? Theres a possibility. The fact that you'd have to use a gun means you deal with more dangerous things, kidnapping or homicide, I haven't decided yet. But why are you here working in a library? It could be a job just for extra money but if it were you wouldn't be here so often. How do I know you're here so often? The girl with the brown hair clearly knows you, I mean, thats normal, but before she talked to you she walked into the library, realised someone wasn't there and went over to where you sat. That would suggest you come here very often if not always."

"How do you know. I didn't just text her?" Jane interrupted hotly.

"No phones allowed in the library."

"Staff tend to ignore that."

"She loves her job. I wouldn't know why, but she does. Staff only use phones on breaks."

Jane sniffed.

"If you're clearly here often, that would suggest you no longer have your job. You looked at Johns gun before with a trance, you were remembering clearly. So something happened involving you using or someone using a gun on you, I don't have a enough facts, and that made you end your job. You're young though so you just started, you've been studying and training for years, you wouldn't just give up you clearly wanted this job. You looked at the gun with a sense of longing not fear, you miss your job, you loved it, you were forced out of it then, a sibling, friend of parent heard about your near danger then. Most likely a parent, it wasn't your dad because that beanie is clearly a new gift from him but not an apology gift, it has in small writing on the side 'to my dear daughter' that could still mean from your mother but theres traces if someone else's hair in it, short, greying. Father. None if your clothing appear anything to do with your mother and its mostly always the mother who stressed, so she forced you out of your job. You moved out, the beanie was probably a goodbye gift then. You decided to work at a library. So, back to my original question. Why didn't you just ignore her, you're a legal adult."

Jane was lost for words, staring at him in shock. John looked a little pissed and tired as if he had to go through this a lot.

"I uh." She paused, struggling for words. "That was amazing yet creepy."

"Understandable."

"I couldn't ignore my own mother, if I did end up getting killed or killing on a case, she'd feel it was on her head."

"Yet you moved out."

"Didn't say I wasn't thoroughly pissed."

Jane fixed her scarf, her hands shaking very slightly.

"So what were you in relations to your job?"

"Homicide detective."

"Scotland Yard?"

"Yes..."

Silence filled the void between them and she scratched nervously at her neck, her sleeve rolling up. She really needed to be a new coat, this one was getting too small for her now.

Sherlocks eyes fixed on her arm before lowering the her hands and the rest if her body as if he were collecting data. Well after that experience, he probably was. Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, she moved from side to side a bit now restless.

"May I continue with my deductions?"

"No Sherlock, let the poor girl get back to work."

"Aw but please, I've been bored for a week now!" The serious, tall and mysterious man suddenly turned into a small child, whining to its patents.

Jane stifled a snort.

It looked like John was about to begin a rant of some sort but she cut in before he could, "No, I don't mind.

Sherlock smiled in triumph, taking a breath, John pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'm going to get coffee, want one too?"

Jane realised he was asking her and swallowed, "Uh. Yeah..sure, thanks?"

"No problem, be back in ten. Don't be a tit Sherlock." He warned before flashing a smile at Jane and walking off.

Not waiting another moment, Sherlock began. "Your fingers are long, good for some instrumental use and by the veins in your hands, you play an instrument. The gaps between them and the way your fingers can stretch suggest you play a piano since you don't need to stretch that much for a violin or cello or any other stringed instrument, though your left hand is that little bit more muscled. So you're left handed. Your finger pads though, they're grazed and slightly bruised and you've been holding your book for a while now and have been unconsciously fiddling with the edges. OCD then, why? Sometimes you don't need a trigger for OCD, it can just happen but your arms...past scars, most on your right which increases my left handed theory. You don't cut your right arm with your right hand, you do it with your left hand. Theres very few on your left, ran out of room? But theres none of the under side of your hand. You wouldn't seek attention, not you. So for some reason you prefer to cut of the top of your arm."

"Preferred."

"Sorry?"

"I preferred, I don't anymore."

He looked at her with narrowed eyes for a moment before continuing, "When I said veins before, you cringed just slightly. A lot of people don't really like the look at veins, so you deliberately self harmed on the top of your arm where you can't see any veins. Safer too. But, they're scars, so you haven't for a while. You lack confidence, so does most people but after certain events and I'm sure more beyond that you had depression, going by the scars and the way you defend and define yourself, you had MDD. You don't anymore but you still suffer lack in confidence, panic attacks and anxiety. You struggled to talk to me the first time and before that you knew I was looking at you but you refused to turn around. You stutter and are unsure, you work in a library, its quiet, you read a lot to get away. Social anxiety. But theres even more than that. I could tell you were itching to make a snark reply to a lot of my comments, to say how you really felt and the expressions on your face basically said it all anyway. You've had to pull back, the girl at the desk was the in,y one who talked to you, there were other people working but you gave them no notice, they did the same. You prefer reading and your own company but you like the thrill of the chase and dangerous situations. Narcism. You just can't always help starting a fight, whether it be online or in real life. I don't know too much yet but I'm wavering around Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Narcism can be controlled, you however struggle so deeply. Meaning you've had help with it, that supports my theory."

Sherlock paused, tilting his head, "You also have mild insomnia, your eyes are hyper active, so is your body but there was slight dark circles about them but you're used to it, you know how to reel it in and control it since you've managed to remain stoic and calm while reading for hours of end."

He let out a breath, coming to an end, "Your lips, there are slight threads that have been ripped from them and very faint dried blood. You don't chew your lips, you scrape your lips, in fact you have been for this whole time unconsciously. Another OCD, this one caused by stress. Also, you have no ring, so not married or engaged and the fact you spend your days in a library with no proper job and living in a flat after moving out because you spite your mum tells me you have no relationship and are not interested in one. You don't wear make up, you don't try, you don't even converse with people very often, you don't want one. I can tell you found me attractive but yet you still wouldn't want to do anything about it."

Jane blushed lightly and her eyes averted from his in embarrassment.

"Why? I wouldn't actually know. And that's about it for now." Sherlock finished.

She looked back up, "Wow. That was...um. Yeah."

"I've gotten enough praise from John, he just gets annoyed now." He smirked.

"I can imagine, are you too..."

"No."

"Because thats fine! I'm all for homosexuality..I used to think I was bisexual..."

"He's straight, I'm asexual. I doubt a relationship between us other than friends, colleagues and flatmates."

Jane nodded, scratching her neck again, "Huh."

"So um," She tried, "What do you do for a living?"

"Consulting detective."

"Really? That sounds a little up yourself."

The corners of his cupids bow curved slightly, "Thats debatable."

For the first time in a while, she laughed without trying and surprising a smile was given in return.

He looked down at the book in her hand, "So...Warriors sounds...interesting."

"It is."

"Clearly, its a national bestseller."

"Exactly."

"For little kiddies, I wouldn't know."

"Oi! These books have a lot of violence, love affairs and all round themes for people older than I'd say, age eleven."

"But they're cats!"

"So? Don't you have an imagination?"

Sherlock looked at her dead in the eye.

"Sorry, stupid question."

Her walked over slowly and took the book from her hand, fingers brushing slightly which sent a very light shiver through her arm and he flicked through it quickly.

"The Forgotten Warrior." He read the title, more to himself.

"Problem?"

At this he smiled again, eyes skimming across the blurb.

"It'd seem a bit cheesy to a new person reading the blurb of the last series."

"Yes." He agreed before handing it back to her once again.

Suddenly she noted he didn't even know her name, "Oh, I'm Jane by the way."

"Sherlock." He replied, more for polite purposes as she already knew.

"Unique name."

"I have insufferable parents."

Another chuckle bubbled out of her lips un sure as to wether he was joking or not.

"If I may ask, you have an ATAR score of 96, you can nearly have any job you wanted yet you elect to work in a library. Why don't you just...go back or find a similar job?"

"A similar job to a homicide detective would be working with dead bodies or something like kidnappings, hijackings, etc. Its as dangerous but not the same, I want to work with murders because then. I don't have to worry about someone dying or being unable to get to them because they're already dead. I just have to solve it."

"Yet they could be serial killers, copycat killers, so on so forth."

"Yes but you have someone already dead, if they're serial killers or copycats you know what to go by, unlike if you were going off something completely random or nothing at all. i have more support and purchase."

"There's always manic people who go randomly."

"Less likely, because everyone has a reason for everyone no matter if its random."

Sherlock looked at her curiously yet understanding, "Very good reasons but you also love the thrill, which can be addictive and life threatening."

"We all have our faults."

He nodded then as if he were finished, "John should be here soon."

Disappointment stirred in her chest but she remained stoic and nodded, "Alright."

Though he showed no sign of leaving, it was then Jane remembered John had also bought her a coffee as well.

"Why do you read so much?" He suddenly said s if it had been bothering him for ages."

"Can't guess?"

"I don't guess, I observe, I deduce."

"Right."

"So?" He pushed, his hands clasping behind his back.

"Uh, well. I like reading?"

He narrowed his eyes but said no more as John arrived with a cardboard tray of three coffees.

"Hope he didn't bother you too much."

"Not at all."

He handed her a coffee and she smiled in thanks, "So Sherlock, are we leaving? I have things to get to."

"A date you mean."

John glared mutinously and fumed, not replying.

Sherlock sighed, "Yes I suppose. Jane will come over in an hour."

"What?"

"What?" John and Jane said simultaneously.

"I'm a consulting detective, I now have a case. Join me in it, see what you think and you might just convince yourself to stay as a homicide detective."

Jane swallowed a bit too much coffee and she coughed, looking shocked at the tall man with the sexy cheekbones, "Really? You just met me and you- oh thats hardly true, you know my whole life story."

"What do you say?"

Should I go to some guys flat that I just met to go on a case with him?

Yeah, yeah you should.

She frowned and shook her head, "No thanks, I can't."

Her mind screamed at her for replying that.

Sherlock simply looked at her, mirroring her stoic features before turning to leave, "Goodbye. Miss Jane."

They walked off and Jane swallowed, "Bye." Though it was too quiet to be heard.

She felt her mind starting to panic and stab at her chest and block her eyes with problems, instantly she walked quickly to her chair, took off her scarf and coat and opened the book to read but found a piece of paper slip out. She narrowed her eyes in suspicious and turned it around to read, 221B Baker Street - SH

Jane smiled, that cock.

Instantly Ellis ran over to her, "You were talking to him! For ages! Oh my god, what was it like? Are you going out with him? Tell me!"

She laughed at her friends excited face, "No we're not going out, he's...cool? No, strange, I don't bloody know."

"He looked pretty hot."

"Yeah, that's agreeable." While saying this, she stood up again, pulling her coat and scarf back on.

"Where are you going? Aren't you going to talk to me? Jane!" She wailed as Jane started walking off.

I wounded what the H stands for. Jane thought randomly, flapping off Ellis.

"Jane! Jane! Where are you going?"

She had reached the entrance to the library, about to leave when she turned her head and said,

"First I'm going to feed my cat. Then I'm going to 221B Baker Street."

_**Reviews are much appreciated and help with my updating. :) hope you enjoyed the first chapter!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**"First I'm going to feed my cat. Then I'm going to 221B Baker Street."**_

The London air seemed to grow worse by the minute, cold spiking up and down the bare patches of Jane's skin while she waited for another taxi to take her to Baker Street having fed her cat, Toby.

While home she had changed into warmer black jeans along with a dark long sleeved shirt but keeping the rest of her previous attire the same with her scarf drawn over her mouth. She cursed herself for not buying gloves before she took a cab, there had been a small shop only a block down from the library she could have gone to. Instead she made do by stuffing her hands in her white coat pockets.

Weak sunlight poured out unevenly in pale yellow dapples along the rooftops and the ice slicked ground like spilled milk, mist and fog blended along the roads and hovered against the trees and walls. The sky was a wide pelt of grey fur like her cat, Jane noted in slight amusement, the thin clouds matching its colour and creating a waving effect. The first appearance of snow was made for the day, slowly spiralling down, twinkling in rhythmic motion.

Jane decided she both loved and hated winter as she restlessly paced the pavement waiting for a cab to appear, Sherlock had said in an hour, she would be late, he might think she wasn't coming and leave to go somewhere, she began fretting.

Her blue/grey eyes trained on the ground as she began questioning why she was even going to him, it wasn't like she could stroll into Scotland Yard and ask for her job back anyway. Though she then supposed Sherlock would be able to help with that. Jane scraped at her lip, well aware, as she continued her ponder. What would her mum think?

The familiar sound of a car engine and tires rolling through puddles brought her back, a black cab heading her way. She raised an arm to call the driver over and soon it stopped beside her, thankful to get out of the beginning snow and finger rotting cold she got in and leaned forward, "221B Baker Street, please."

Having nodded in response and started off, Jane sat back in the warm cab and pulled out her hands, massaging and rubbing them in the heat while she could until they ran with blood once again and were flexible.

The cabs windscreen wipers started up as the snow grew slightly heavier but didn't persist anymore and by the time she reached her destination, it had reached a steady and light pace, barely covering the pavement and disturbing the tree branches, now glistening like cobwebs against the sky.

Thanking and paying the cab driver, she heaved herself out into the cold just outside the black 221B door. The taxi drove off, leaving her to face meeting the consulting detective once again. Swallowing, she pushed onwards and knocked on the door. A moment later she was greeted by an old lady with blonde/brown hair and a kind face, "Hello dear, can I help you?"

"Uh yes, hi, I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes...?" Jane replied uncertainly, hating talking to new people.

"Oh! Of course, he's just upstairs, the first door." She nodded, gesturing her in and pointing above the grey steps.

"Alright, thank you!" She tried a smile and headed upwards, her steps echoing against the bare walls that seemed to be fraying in places.

Reaching the landing Jane hesitated, did she really want to do this? She felt the common panic begin to run its course through her veins, her breath began to constrict slightly, she hardly knew this man. Jane raised her hand to knock, froze and brought it back. Sighing restlessly, she turned on the spot to look back down the steps. She wanted to leave but-

The door opened and she whirled to face John, looking startled at the sight of her, "Oh...hi. I was just heading out."

Jane swallowed, suddenly even more unsure, "Yeah- I uh, came to see...him."

Idiot.

"Sherlock?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, he's in the kitchen. I warn you though, he can be...an asshole at times."

Jane cracked a smile, "I think I can handle that." Her own narcissism was enough to piss plenty of people off, it'd be nice to be on the receiving end for once so she didn't feel like such an outcast.

John nodded, scratching his blonde hair, "Okay, good luck I suppose?"

"Thanks..." She replied dully and stepped aside for him to leave. As he padded down the stairs, a familiar deep voice yelled from inside the flat, "Get the milk on your way back!"

"Get it yourself!"

A scoff was all that was replied, only heard by her.

Cautiously, Jane stepped into the flat, her footsteps light and hesitant as if she'd fall through the floor at any moment. Closing the door softly behind her, she glanced around the small space before deciding she liked it. A fire roared behind the grate, filling the flat with its warmth and sound. The scents of firewood, slight dust, cologne and something unidentifiable blended to create an unusual but comfortable smell. Two chairs were placed beside the fire at the far end of the living room space, a couch lay to the side with a coffee table a bit out from it. A hallway pushed through the wall to the left of the fireplace, two closed doors visible inside it. To the left of the hallway door was a large gap in the wall which she guessed was the kitchen, open to the living room.

Swallowing again, Jane walked towards the kitchen with uncertainty until it all became visible to her, a large table filled most of the space, littered with scientific equipment, notes and other objects she didn't feel in the stomach set to even want to distinguish. A bench connected to the walls and swung around the space, a fridge was set at the back beside another door which led out onto the landing, she guessed.

Next to the table however, sat on a stool and utterly focused on looking at whatever was underneath the microscope was the man she was looking for, dressed in black suit pants and a white dress shirt without his coat, scarf and gloves. Somehow it made him look different but she shook away the thought quickly as she tried to get his attention.

She was used to just standing next to the teacher in class until, they looked up and she asked whatever she was there for but it seemed wrong in this situation as she was in someone else's home. Though no words came.

Awkwardly, she shifted around a bit, trying to grab his attention until finally she cleared her throat but the only sign that he might have heard was a twitch of his fingers against the focusing dial.

"Hello?" Jane tried but her voice was weak from anxiety and she had to force herself to speak up, "Hello?"

Finally his eyes flicked up and narrowed as if wondering what had disturbed him until he lifted his head and swung his gaze towards her almost predatory like as if she were some sort of prey. Unable to make eye contact as always, her eyes flickered everywhere but his own.

"Hello." His smooth reply cut through whatever ice had been held in between them and Jane finally dared herself to lock their gazes.

"I wasn't sure you'd come." Sherlock admitted, his eyes- more green than before, narrowing a bit.

Jane pulled out her hand from her pocket and pulled down the scarf from her mouth, resting it against her neck and shoulders. She shrugged, "Me neither."

He turned back to his microscope and took out the slide before getting up to put it away, "Make yourself a home." He called, not looking over his shoulder, "Thats what you do when someone enters your home don't they?"

Fighting back a laugh, she nodded even though he couldn't see and turned, walking stiffly over to the couch to sit down. Still feeling rather awkward and jerky.

Bravely, to her at least, she asked "You said you had a case." Loud enough so he could hear her from the kitchen.

"Yep." Came a low reply, popping the P.

"So?"

"So." He started, coming into the living room, "What?"

Damn that shirt looked good on him...her mind suddenly wandered but she snapped her thoughts and gaze away from it and instead looked confusingly at the tall man a metre or two away from her.

"Well? Are you going to tell me about it, you said I could join you..."

"I could but that'd spoil the surprise." His deep voice resonated the air with amusement.

"...ok." Utterly unsure at what else to say.

Suddenly he threw himself down on the large, black chair beside the fireplace. It seemed unbecoming of him to laze about like a child when just before he seemed so posh and elegant. "So!" He began as sudden as his flop, "How do you like the violin?"

"Its...great? What?"

"I play the violin a lot, mostly at night when I'm bored or on a case and don't sleep...if you're going to stay here a while, you should be warned I suppose."

Even more confusion pressed her mind, Jane leaned forward, "I'm staying here?"

"The case we're on will need you to stay at John and I's flat for a while, make things easier."

"I haven't even packed...let alone been prepared to stay..."

"Oh don't worry about packing, all you really need are clothes and whatever it is girls...need." His gaze narrowed into slits as he trailed off.

"But I have a cat."

"Mrs Hudson can take care of it, I'm sure."

"Mrs Hudson?"

"The landlady that you met downstairs."

"Oh."

Silence filled the space between them with only the roaring of the fire and the light tick of a clock in the background. Jane rapped her fingers along her leg, suddenly having a urge to play piano and cuddle with her cat with scents and sights she knew and welcomed.

Her swallows were annoyingly loud, she wished she wasn't so nervous.

In seemed a few minutes had passed until a deep monotone poured into the empty silence, "Have I made you uncomfortable?" He seemed to genuinely be stuck on this.

"Uh, not exactly. I'm never comfortable with people I hardly know and in someone else's home but suddenly bringing up my staying here was a little..."

"Surprising?"

"Yeah and I'd say creepy."

Sherlock's teeth flashed in a smile, "You needn't be worried about my mental state or intentions."

"Well that's reassuring." Jane mumbled, rolling her eyes.

Firmly, his colour-changing iris landed on her in thought, "You write as well as read?"

"Yes..."

"Yet you haven't published anything."

"How would you know." She retorted defensively.

"I looked you up."

A pause, and then "Yeah, that didn't work in your defence against paedophilia."

Sighing in good nature, Sherlock turned his head around the room, "Do you prefer writing for pleasure?"

"Hm?"

"Is that why you haven't published anything?" He looked back at her again.

"Oh...no. I just can't seem to stick with what I write."

"Interesting."

Now feeling even more uncomfortable, Jane shifted her position on the couch awkwardly, "I also don't really like people reading my stuff. Its generally acceptable if they're not in sight of me or they don't mention it apart from praise, but there's always a limit to praise."

He didn't offer a reply apart from a nod as if willing her to continue, "I sort of get panicked, like once in primary school. A teacher was going to read out my short story to the class and I had a panic attack, bolting from the classroom and waiting outside till it was over. I came back in, met with claps. So...i don't know, its stupid."

"Modesty is unbecoming of you." Sherlock's hands pressed together, fingers against his lips, in a prayer fashion.

Jane snorted unexpectedly, "Its not modesty Mr Holmes, trust me."

"Sherlock please...and I don't think that's all true. You have narcissism, you would usually love the praise, the cheers of your work but instead you cower in fear, what's that?"

She opened her mouth to answer but he continued with barely a breath, "You've clearly seen some one about your narcissism to try and help you be more social but. I have a feeling its back fired and turned you anxious and even more social ridden."

Now that he'd said it, Jane admitted, it did make a lot of sense. She found herself nodding slightly and the corners of his lips tipped up.

"Oh its fun being right, isn't it? I've just been _so_ bored." His laze posture returned with a child like whine at the end of his sentence.

Her brow furrowed but she stayed silent. A sudden shiver rippled her skin and she unconsciously moved closer to the fireplace, stuffing her hands in between her knees.

Sherlock's gaze followed her movements, "Cold?" The question hung in the air for a moment until she nodded awkwardly.

He grunted, gesturing with his head and a slight flock of his hand, "Coats' over there."

She frowned until realising that his great coat was hung over the side of a chair in the kitchen, he was offering her his coat?

Jane was much too anxious and embarrassed to do that so she shook her head, "Or I could just sit closer to the fire." Her eyes on the other chair facing him.

He grunted again, "That too."

As she moved over and sat down he tapped his fingers against one another and said, "Johns been teaching me on social skills..."

"I think offering someone your coat is more for intimate purposes." She mumbled, looking at the bottom of his chair.

"Is it? Oh." His voice continued to have a boredom lace to it, lazily rolling each word with his tongue.

More silence built a wall between them, she found herself staring at the fire lost in thought when her phone buzzed with a text that caused her to jump in surprise, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she pulled it out, feeling Sherlock's curious gaze on her.

Opening the message, she didn't recognise the number but read the message anyhow,

Meet me outside, Miss Jane.

"Who the hell?" She trailed off, frowning at her screen until a hand reached forward to take a look, Jane handed it to him, still confused.

Instantly as Sherlock looked at it he groaned.

"What? Who is it?"

He handed it back, "My brother. I wouldn't go to him, it'd fuel his little high power mind set."

But the only thought Jane could conjure was the thought of Sherlock having a brother and living with him and birthdays and playing...

"_You have a brother_?"

_**Thank you for following! And sorry fir the slow update, I have school again so I can only manage to update once a week. I try my best though! :) please review, they can really make my day and help with updating faster and better.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**_"You have a brother?"_**

The cold evening ached when Jane finally returned home after her strange and well...it wasn't exactly eventful.

Yet.

She hoped at least.

The silver door handle to her flat was riddled with frost as she unlocked and opened it, entering the dark hallway lit by nothing other than street and car lights from the window in the small living room. Red pulses of light raced along the wall paper in stretches of lines that diminished as quick as they came with each car.

Jane shut the door behind her and continued down the short hallway into the living room before flicking on the lights, instantly lighting up the small flat room. A rug lay in the middle, with the image of the England flag, a dark couch squatted in the corner beside the door, facing a T.V. Screen on the other wall along with a piano facing the window and if she were to play it now, her back would be to the door.

A narrow door way, missing the door, led into a tiny yet clean and organised kitchen while upstairs held an even smaller sized bathroom beside a bedroom.

Jane looked about the room before finding a grey, plump tom cat lazing on top of her piano, his yellow eyes opened as she approached and a purr rumbled in his chest. "Hello Toby!" She cooed, scratching him behind the ears.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she drew her hand away to take it out before unlocking the screen,

**Come back tomorrow if convenient - SH**

She snorted, _how considerate, but I have work tomorrow._

Then, as if reading her thoughts, another message popped up,

**If inconvenient, come anyway - SH**

"I can see why John is wary of you meeting new people." Jane commented aloud to herself.

Deciding to stay up a little longer, having eaten Chinese at 221B and not needing dinner, Jane grabbed her laptop from the kitchen counter top and headed upstairs to watch some _Pewdiepie_.

* * *

It was unbearably cold when Jane woke up, dried drool on her chin in her bed with the covers only at her waist as she was sitting up against the headboard. The laptop was still on in front of her, showing a finished Youtube video. If it weren't for the laptop screen and faint illuminated clock lights, the room would have been swallowed in a thick darkness which she hated with a passion. Though would never get a night light. She wasn't afraid of the dark exactly, she was afraid of the blindness of it. It had always been a confusing concept for her.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and wiping her mouth with her sleeve, Jane pushed her laptop to the side and glanced at the time, **4:27 AM. **

Wondering what woke her up, she yanked off the covers and stumbled out of the bed to the door, fumbling in the dark for the light switch. The floorboards were like ice which didn't help her stiff and achy joints.

Finally finding the light switch, she flicked it on and started to relax at being able to see. Her bedroom window was covered in dew and frost with snow lining the rim. The walls were as cold as the floor and Jane swore she could see her breath in front of her. How was it possibly this cold? Her brain began stumbling over the simplest of things as she saw her phone on her bedside table, with a small white flash going off every few seconds to indicate she had a message.

_Ah_. She thought, _that must have been what woke me up._

Padding over to it, shivering uncontrollably and suddenly needing to pee, she opened the message both wanting to thank and strangle the person for waking her up at such an ungodly hour though it saved her from freezing to death, in her opinion.

**Ready to go to a crime scene? - SH**

"What the hell?" She exasperated, running a hand through her dark hair and blinked a few times, still muddled from sleep. Feeling more confident to express emotion through text, she wrote back,

**Now? Are you joking? You woke me up! - J**

Almost instantly his reply came through, Jane could almost hear his snarky voice,

**Yes now and sleep isn't important at this moment, I'll come pick you up. - SH**

**Who says I'm coming? - J**

But he didn't reply after that and she sighed in frustration, wishing she could go snuggle under the covers. She barely knew the man and now he was waking her up at four in the morning to go on a case. _Well you were the one who hoped for something eventful._ A contradicting voice in her head said.

Glaring at her phone, she put it down on her bedside table with more force than necessary and turned to head into the bathroom for a hot shower.

The sounds of the city muffled by the night filled her bathroom, a small latch window left open. Scowling, Jane slammed it shut, closed the bathroom door, undressed and stepped into the shower. It was then that she remembered work, how long was todays events supposed to go for exactly?

She closed her eyes and tried to forget about that for now, she was going on a case! While she was both irritated at being woken up she couldn't help but feel the familiar tight, clenching stomach and the heightened heart rate and sense.

For what seemed like hours, Jane finally stepped out of the shower, tinged red with heat and wrapped a white towel about her chest before walking back into her room. She wasn't prepared to see a tall man with raven curls looking around her room with sharp and judging eyes. Jane let out a small shriek of surprise and tugged her towel more firmly around her. Sherlock turned, seemingly unfazed, "Apologies, I warned you that I was coming over." He said casually, looking back at her bookshelf.

_"How did you get inside!?" _

"It's a rather easy lock to pick."

"So you broke into my flat?"

"I would have come in anyway, what's the difference of coming in early?"

"I'm not going to justify that with a response.." She muttered before grabbing the clothes she was to change into and heading back into the bathroom, away from prying eyes.

_Where did all this confidence come from?_ She thought to herself as she dried off, _I didn't stutter once!_

Though then she remembered when she still worked for Scotland Yard, she hadn't been very anxious there, maybe it had something to do with the...thrill.

Once she had dried herself off, she gratefully pulled on light brown jeans, starving her legs of cold air and pulled on a black long sleeved top. Woollen. Warm.

Towelling her hair dry, Jane returned to her room and found Sherlock curiously examining more of her Warrior books.

"Still puzzled?" She teased, he gave only a grunt in reply before putting in back on the shelf, seemingly the only organised thing in the room.

"Don't girls usually keep their room...tidy." Sherlock sniffed, his eyes, seemingly now green, darting around the room in mild disgust.

"You clearly don't visit girls often."

"...Clearly." He agreed.

Jane sat on the edge of her bed to pull on her socks and shoes, "So, you woke me up at four in the morning, must be a good case then?"

"Woke you up?" His deep monotone was slicked with genuine surprise.

She looked up at him, brow furrowed, "Yes, Sherlock. It was four _in the morning_ of course you woke me up. Were you not sleeping?"

Though he only narrowed his eyes, she knew that she didn't really need his reply to know the answer.

With her shoes laced up, she found a black jacket half under her bed and zipped it on along with her scarf though making sure the noose down was under her jacket as not to get in the way if they were to run anywhere.

Jane suddenly realised her hands were shaking, though she didn't feel particularly cold, in the back of her mind she knew it was the anticipation but didn't want to admit to it.

"Its interesting," Sherlock's voice cut through her thoughts as she tied her hair back, still wet, "How calm you seem to be now. Yesterday you were an anxious, stuttering mess."

"Hmm," She muttered, "Yeah- Interesting." Keeping her eyes fixed anywhere but him.

Jane could feel his stare burning like dry ice on her body but tried desperately to ignore it, "We going?"

"Warm enough?" He questioned.

_Probably not,_ "I'm fine."

"Okay." And with that, he turned with a sweep of his coat and led the way out of her room, leaving her to flick off the lights as she went.

As soon as they had shut the front door and were outside in the dark, damp cold, Jane instantly wished for warmer clothes. Her breath billowed out from her mouth like a cloud of smoke and filled her lungs with what felt like shards of ice. She drew her scarf over her mouth and partly her nose in an attempt to warm her body up as they waited for a taxi.

Jane paced tightly on the spot, rubbing her hands in a vain attempt to heat them up. Sherlock stood half a meter away from her, also pacing though more restlessly, wishing for a cab to appear. She look enviously at his long, bloody warm coat, scarf and gloves. _I could probably fit into that coat, he's only half a head taller than me..._ She shook her head, _Or I could just buy myself a warmer coat and some gloves._

"Maybe we should start walking." Sherlock hissed through gritted teeth, stepping closer to her as if in question.

She caught a whiff of his cologne and instantly felt a tingle over her skin, "Uh, I suppose. It'll warm us up."

He instantly whipped around and started walking, with long strides, further up the road. Jane jogged to catch up, surprised by his sudden irritation and managed to keep pace with him, just.

Silence and motor sounds crowded the space in between them, anxiety beginning to stir up inside Jane as she thought of what she could do to break the near literal ice.

"So, uh." She cleared her throat, "What did your brother end up doing?"

"When I told him to go eat some more cake and leave me alone? I'm guessing he did just that. He hasn't spoken to you has he?" His gaze flicked to her briefly and she shook her head.

"No, no. I just curious." She trailed off, staring into the masses of darkness prowling beside anything solid, reaching for every scrap of space but the lamp lights every few meters on the path warded them off. She still didn't like the blindness of it all, her senses were pretty good, especially on edge, her nickname at school had been Cat Nose because she could smell things other couldn't, or before they could, she was more sensitive to certain scents and knew what you had been eating, if it were citrus related, three hours earlier. But she was short sighed and sometimes her hearing could get the better of her by seeking out the tiniest of things just to frighten her.

Jane dragged her gaze away and instead focused on the things close to her, shoving out the dark with the edges of her vision, being blind was something she clearly wasn't fond of.

She could hear the traffic up the road, they were getting closer but it still wasn't enough to relieve the suffocating, smothering feeling that she had. Sherlock was further ahead now as Jane had allowed herself to trail a meter or so behind and he paused to turn around slightly, "Do hurry up, I'd like to get there soon so we can be gone by six, seven at the latest." With that, he turned back and continued on.

_The sympathy here is overwhelming_. Jane thought sarcastically, huffing and jogging to catch up again. She looked over her shoulder, down the sloped road and thought she saw a shape scuttle through the outskirts of the shadows. _Get yourself together, you're not five!_ She scolded herself and clenched her jaw, pushing onwards.

It wasn't too much longer when she noticed Sherlock move closer to her, not exactly for intimate purpose but seemingly more comforting wise, in the best way the raven haired sociopath could. Jane hadn't realised he had noticed her fears, though It may have been her swift glances in the alleyways, the restless hands, eager to run to the main road where there were lights, cars and shops, not secluded, pitch black trails. Or the rapid heartbeat, that she was sure someone on the edge of London could hear but either way she was grateful for it and felt herself relaxing, especially when they came to the cross section into the more well lit areas, a cab had already passed so they moved just outside a closed shop and waited for another.

By this time it was nearly five and she suddenly frowned, if Sherlock wanted to leave before six or seven and they were going at the dead of night, was he meaning to go when no one was purposely be there? Were they sneaking in somewhere?

She opened her mouth to ask when he interrupted with a short yell of, "Taxi!" With his arm out stretched, the black cab slowed to a stall beside them and she didn't get the chance, instead following him into the back of the cab. Her worries washed away with the warmth of the interior and felt herself thawing.

Through the journey, she could tell Sherlock was getting more restless by the minute, clearly he had planned to be there earlier.

_What am I doing? Going out late at night to sneak into a crime scene with a man I met only yesterday!_ Jane nearly laughed out loud at the thought but made sure to keep her mouth firmly closed. _He doesn't seem like a bad person, he's a well known consulting detective, if what I researched was true. I'll be fine._

"I'll be fine." She whispered under her breath, impossible for anyone to have heard and sat back, beginning to relax more.

* * *

The ride there wasn't very long at all and soon they had come to a halt outside a few buildings, the far one warded off with police tape. _The Cab driver had to be suspicious_, Jane frowned.

Though he said nothing and she and Sherlock both climbed out of the cab into the cold and dark, the sky had the slight beginnings of dawn light but the fog shrouded most of it to be even remotely helpful.

The taxi drove off almost silently and left them alone to whatever Sherlock had planned, she looked up at him as he smiled cheerfully and clapped his gloved hands together, glancing down at her, "Right! Off we go then!"

He didn't wait for a reply and strode off towards the marked off building, it was small and narrow though it was two stories with two, wide square windows right and left of the top front, no windows were visible below it. The door was painted grey and the exterior were bricks, with a small gravel pathway outside. It didn't seem exactly...haunted or scary, it seemed like a new house, almost as if it were still under construction. As they grew closer, Jane could see yellow markers here and there dotting the ground and the tape outline of what looked like a body. Her heart spiked but not our of fear, it was adrenaline, excitement.

She remembered when her brother came home from his friends High school Formal, she had been only thirteen at the time, and he said on the way there there was a dead body on the road, covered, and two crashed cars. She had been instantly alert, wanting to know more, how it happened, she wanted to be there. She didn't tell anyone at the time, they might think she was odd. Disturbed. Even though all she had was innocent had interest in it.

Sherlock and Jane arrived at the police tape in which Sherlock unceremoniously pulled it up and ducked underneath, leaving her to do the same as he wandered over to the front door, looking at all the markers as he went.

_Isn't this breaking the law?_ Jane hesitated, her hand not quite touching the tape yet, _But Sherlock is a detective isn't he? I'll be fine._

So with that, she held it up and went underneath, catching up to Sherlock in a few eager strides.

Jane padded to a halt beside him as he raised his hand slightly to signal her to stop, he glanced about the door before speaking, "We'll go around the back and enter through a window. I'm not too fond of leaving our prints everywhere, no matter how stupid they are."

She followed silently as he led the way around the side of the building, "Does John know we're here?"

He paused, "Sorry?"

"John? He does know you're here right?" She suddenly felt like a mother scolding her child.

His eyes turned shifty, "Its not important."

"Not important? He's about the only sane person in your little group of people that I've met so far! And now we're breaking into a crime scene!"

"I like to think of it as helping when they're not around."

"I'm not going to justify that with a response." She scowled, crossing her arms.

Sherlock seemed at a loss of words and he opened and closed his mouth without saying a syllable until finally, "Well we're here _now_! So lets go and take a look."

She looked at him through narrowed eyes too.

"You want to as well, _come on!_"

Finally she gave in, sighing and the consulting detective gave an excited grin before turning and continuing on around the building.

"Its like dealing with a child." She muttered even though she followed with very little reluctance.

They rounded the corner and were faced with the same bleak wall as before except there was a window low enough to reach and one on the far, top right corner.

The low window was almost completely shattered, the latch pretty much hanging off. Sherlock examined it without touching before straightening, "Right, we should be able to get in through here." He gripped the latch and yanked in one swift move, the window screeched in protest but opened anyhow without breaking any more of the glass.

"Ready?" Sherlock looked at her and at her nod, he hauled and vaulted himself over and in in a smooth fashion. Jane tried to do the same but it ended up more clumsy and feeble, she dropped into the room on the other side of the window and was met with wooden floorboards and utter darkness.

She felt Sherlock beside her, his hand lightly on her arm to guide her over to the back wall for support as to where they were going.

The same gripping terror started swarming her senses, she fought to stay calm, swallowing loudly and gripping the wall more firmly as if if she were to let go, she'd fall into the blackness. Once her eyes had adjusted, she could make out shapes and outlines, the room wasn't too big, with another door, off its hinges, to the side with a few markers on the floor. Sherlock was a pace ahead of her and seemed about as sure as she was.

Once they had reached the door way, Sherlock peered out, the front door in sight and a staircase to his right. _Oh, no, no. i'm not going up there!_ She fretted, stiffening.

Sherlock walked out of the room fully and looked about his surroundings, crouching down to peer at what the markers were referring to, Jane loitered behind him, glancing fearfully around.

"It would have helped if you brought a torch!" She hissed to the man crouched ahead of her, "Then we could actually see!"

"We can see, just not as well as if there were light."

She glared at him with as much force as possible but he didn't seem to notice and he stood up again.

It would probably have been dawning on **5:30 **now, she guessed, more light was starting to sluggishly filter in through the door cracks and windows. Finally Sherlock said what she most dreaded, "Right, we'll head up there." He didn't wait to see if she was fine with it and slinked off, starting up the staircase which bore no creaks or groans, it was silent.

Jane swallowed thickly, beginning to shake and hesitantly followed him up, pitch black met her eyes when she reached the top, she couldn't see Sherlock.

"Sherlock?" She hissed.

"Over here." His deep voice sounded close to her left, she followed it until she could see his outline, bent slightly to look at something on the wall, Jane couldn't see.

Her eyes darted to the other side of the room and saw a parted door with some light pushing out, she padded over and looked in, realising she was in the room with the two windows. It was lighter here, though still dark.

Jane pressed herself close to the glass and peered down at the taped body shape curiously, she moved to the side to get a better look, completely missing the red and yellow tape at her feet and not realising that a whole chunk of the glass here was missing, replaced with a clear sheet. Her gaze was fixed on the dead body shape.

One step. Two step. She was about to take a third when a rough hand grabbed the back of her collar and yanked her backwards, she let out a startled yelp and stumbled into another body before whipping around. Sherlock glared down at her, irritation written all over his features, "_Are you a blind idiot_?"

"What?" She puffed, turning to look at her mistake, realisation dawned on her face as she finally noticed the danger. "Oh."

"Yes _oh_. Stay there, while _I_ take a look." He grumbled, pushing past her to examine the scene. She felt heat rise to her cheeks and stood by the door, guilt and shame nagging at her.

"Sorry." She mumbled, feeling like a kid again. Sherlock merely grunted. It was nearing six, as far as her body clock could tell. If people were coming back to continue, they should get a move on.

_I don't even know the story to this case, why are we here?_ She furrowed her brow, crossing her arms to watch Sherlock work. _Doesn't he usually talk out loud when_- suddenly the sound of steps on wood made her heart plummet. "Sherlock!" She squeaked, her voice suddenly high pitched.

He glanced up, upon hearing it too, "Come on." He made quickly for the door, grabbing her arm as he went and pulling her towards the stairs, though mid way they were faced with a young boy, probably late teens, near his 20's with straggly brown hair.

"Hello."

Sherlock hesitated, real confusion lighting up on his face, but he quickly diminished it as soon as it came, his eyes examining every inch of the boy in less than a second.

"Do your parents know you're here?" Sherlock inquired casually.

"No." The boy replied with a voice just as casual, as if the fact that Sherlock knew something personal didn't faze him in the slightest.

"Why are you here then?"

"You know why I'm here." He replied pointedly, throwing a glare with eyes like chips of dirty green ice.

"Yes."

A while passed before anyone spoke again, Jane stood awkwardly to the side of Sherlock, leaning on the railing for support as not to fall in the narrow stair way.

The boy sighed and rolled his eyes, "I'm here to see my sister."

"_Sister_?" She furrowed her brow.

"Its always the sister." Sherlock muttered.

"You didn't know?" Jane looked at Sherlock in surprise and he sheepishly looked away.

"Thought it was a brother."

"Yes, _my_ sister. Let me through." The straggly haired boy snarled, Jane decided she didn't much like him.

"Your sisters dead." Announced the familiar low rumble to her right.

He rolled his eyes again, "Obviously, now let me go through before the police get here!"

Confusion rolled about in Jane's mind but she decided to keep quiet, allowing the scene to unfold before her.

Sherlock tilted his head, "Why didn't you just look when you were at the front of the house?"

"I wanted to see where she jumped."

"She jumped?" Jane let out, before clamping her mouth shut instantly after.

"Of course she jumped Jane, I thought you were a Homicide Detective." Sherlock snapped, she sniffed and looked away, "It was dark." She murmured.

The boy took a step forward, she could feel his breath on her face, "Let me pass and we can all get back to our lives."

The hesitation on Sherlock's face was enough of a give away to the boy and he grabbed Jane by her coat, yanked her towards him and to the side before she could blink.

She felt herself tumbled over the railing and reached out for any source of a purchase before pulling. A startled yell replied to her pull and she realised with dread that she had gotten a hold of the boy. For a moment there was nothing and then her back hit the cold, hard floor and smashed the breath from her body, her head cracked against the ground and she felt something hot and wet appear. The guy landed atop her but seemed to be less effected.

She wheezed and tried to get up but was once again grabbed and lifted up by the throat, pushed harshly into another room. She didn't have time to even register exactly what was happening apart from the fact that this kid was damn strong.

Jane caught a glimpse of a hazy Sherlock vaulting over the last of the stair railings before the door was slammed in her face and pitch black swamped her.

_I'll be fine._


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thanks so much for the support so far guys! I try my best to update as soon as i can but with school work, it can be hard. Special thanks to **__**Elsa-the time lord **_

**_I hope you enjoy this chapter and please review, they take a few seconds for you and can make my day :) Along with helping me update quicker._**

**_enjoy-_**

* * *

_**I'll be fine.**_

"_Jane_!"

Dull sounds reached Jane's ears, sounding far away, she groaned and tried to cover her ears, feeling extremely tired, but found it too hard.

"_Jane_? Jane, are you OK?"

The same voice as before spliced in through the hazy silence and she tried to reply back, to tell him to shut up and let her sleep but her tongue felt too heavy.

"Jane, just stay awake. I'll get you out but you need to move, you're too close to the door if I were to kick it down."

Kick it down? _Mum will kill me if someone kicked my door down! _ She managed to gain some control of her body and roll to the side, trying to find the bed covers before realising there were none but cold wood and dust.

"Jane, concentrate! We have to leave before the police get here."

_Police? Who the hell are you?_ She breathed in, feeling a tightness in her chest and coughed, spluttering from the dust. _Ow. That bloody hurts my head_!

She let out another groan, a low throbbing in the back of her skull and raised a weak arm to the pain, feeling wetness.

Jane grimaced and stretched open her eyes, blinking away the darkness, though it never left. She had no sleep in her eyes which only made her more confused about where she was and why she well...hadn't been sleeping apparently.

"Mum?" She mumbled and a slight chuckle was given in reply to her.

"No, its Sherlock."

_Sherlock? Who is- wait a moment...Oh!_

Jane blinked again and let her eyes dart about the room, sluggishly registering and remembering. She tried to see what the wetness was on her hands but found it too dark and guessed it was blood from the fact she had hit her head against the floorboards.

"Sherl- Sher." She coughed, "Sherlock? Its dark, where are you?"

"Not there with you, I'm outside the room but the idiot jammed the bloody door to keep us occupied."

It was then she realised the situation she was in and started to panic, it was too dark..and small and the dust was getting in her eyes. She needed to get out.

"I want to get out." She rasped, trying to get into a sitting position.

"I'm trying, you need to move yourself away from the door." He ordered, his voice recognisably muffled by the door.

She tried just that but a sharp pain spiked through her cranium and she cried out, laying back down, "Hurts."

"Too bad, move or we'll both be arrested."

"Thought you were a detective."

"Not a well liked one?"

"Really? I thought you were _charming_!"

"You're getting delirious, I need you. To move. Away from. The door." Sherlock's voice was both gentle and hard, a mixture of both.

_"I can't see!_" Jane cried, clawing at the ground.

"_I know_. If you move, you can get out."

Jane tried to drag her body forward, each effort seemingly painful but managed a few meters before finding a wall and leaning up against it, panting.

"Done." She gasped.

"There you go, that wasn't too hard was it?"

The next minute resulted in Sherlock trying to kick down the door until the top seemed to lean in, off its hinges, hardly letting in light and barely giving her a chance to get out.

"Stupid door, there's something jamming it." Sherlock growled, his voice clearer with the gap.

"I'm tired." Jane mumbled, blinking with heavy lids.

"No, no- don't go to sleep."

"I'm also rather hungry."

"I'll get you something to eat soon but I need you to help me get you out, Jane."

Jane stifled a groan as she tried to look up towards the door and she felt blood trickle down her forehead and was next second blinded in her left eye by warm liquid. Raising an arm, she did her best to wipe it out the way, not noticing the background sounds becoming numb.

There was a low thumping and urgent voice somewhere but she couldn't understand it, nor did she really care anymore, she was _really_ tired.

It was when her head had a thick fog suffocating it, when her eyes were closed and shoulders slumped, when her ears rang until they were a dull bore in her eardrums that light exploded behind her eyelids, snatching her before she fell into the darkness.

She felt something cold touching her skin, patting her cheek. Words followed next, cutting through the tough numb haze obscuring her hearing. " 'ane" "Jane, wake up."

Jane tried to open her eyes, managing only slits and felt a breath of relief ghost on her neck, "Come on, we have to go."

Mumbling something incoherent she allowed herself to be picked up, her arm slung around Sherlock's neck, he had thought she could at least walk but her senses hadn't sharpened, her limbs were like jelly.

"For god sakes." He cursed and picked her up bridal style before striding from the room to the window they had come in from.

Dark shapes slung over her vision now and then, she coughed and tried to piece together a sentence, "Waz happen tah guy?"

"I'd suggest you wait till you have use of your tongue until you consider talking." He grunted and hauled her out of the building, shutting the window silently behind him with one hand.

"The guy..." Jane tried, "_That_ guy."

"Oh, him. What about him?" Gravel crunched beneath his feat as he led her away through the now lightened area.

"What happen?"

"I'll excise your poor grammar for now. What happened? After he successfully got us away, I'm sure he did what he wanted and left wherever he came."

She hummed in response to show she understood before turning her head to the side to watch where they were going.

After a while of walking, her eyelids grew much heavier than before and she felt sleep crawling its way over to her, trying to cover her eyes and shroud her mind.

A light few slaps to the side of her face brought her back, "Can't go to sleep yet." Sherlock mumbled before stopping and sitting her down. "I wonder where we can get a cab..."

"Will John be mad?" Jane struggled to piece a sentence together, her head was really pounding now.

Sherlock looked down at her, over his shoulder and a small smirk curled his mouth, "Probably."

He turned his back to her again and whipped out his phone, clearly ignoring his missed calls and texts and instead dialling a number, Jane could tell he was calling a cab and became uninterested, instead looking about her surroundings.

It wasn't very dark anymore but it was a rather quiet backstreet, only a few cars passed them now and then.

She raised her hand to touch the wound on the back of her head and grimaced as a light pain sizzled from the touch along with the sticky warmth of blood connected with her hand, she drew it back to look at it and realised they had already been stained with dried blood from when she had tried to work it out before.

Her back felt rather sore from the fall and she knew she'd have horrible bruises come the next morning.

Sherlock made a noise of satisfaction and pocketed the iPhone, "Taxi's on its way." He said cheerily before sweeping his coat to the side and sitting down beside her.

"You should...answer John." Jane's voice function was slowly getting better and she looked at the tall man next to her.

He shrugged, "What for."

"To let him know, not dead." She slurred.

"I'm right."

"I mean _him_."

"He's fine."

Jane sighed and gave up, feeling too tired to keep talking and instead focused on not closing her eyes.

After about five minutes she grew bored and cleared her throat, "I'd say this was fun but it really wasn't."

Surprisingly a nod of agreement came from beside her, "Understandable, its not usually like this."

"Sorry." She added after a moment of thought.

"What for?"

"The _thing_ I don't know-!"

"...Its fine?"

Humming slightly in response she closed her eyes for just a moment but instantly felt washed out from the blackness and they refused to open no matter how hard she tried.

"Jane." A blurred voice said from somewhere far away.

"Jane! I told you not to close your eyes dammit."

_I'm trying dickhead!_

She groaned and forced her eyes open suddenly wanting to cry in frustration at being unable to sleep.

"There we go." Sherlock chirped.

"I'll kill you." Jane hissed through gritted teeth.

"Whatever for? Cab's here!" He jumped up before bending over to help her arm, supporting her with her arm around his neck towards and into the cab.

"221B Baker Street." He told the cabbie, who nodded and drove off.

"I honestly...regret...this." Jane said, resting her head on Sherlock's shoulder without really realising it.

He stiffened and leaned away slightly, unsure of what to do, "Uh." He cleared his throat, "Yeah- not surprising. It'll be, um, better."

Unable to be bothered about why he was suddenly strained, she huffed, "When can I go to sleep."

"When John says."

"But that's like...ages away."

Sherlock frowned, "Alright..."

It was after a long pause when she suddenly jolted, "I'm going to be late for work!"

Sherlock chuckled, "What? Sorting books at a library?"

"Being the only job I have, I'd like to keep the money." She snapped, not lifting her head.

"Are you usually this moody when you're not ridden with anxiety?"

"I don't know, am I?" Jane hissed angrily, trying to end the conversation. She'd never get to work now.

Apparently to Sherlock though, the conversation was in fact _not_ over. "You remind me of John."

"That's nice dear."

"The first case he had with me changed him as well."

"You think I'm changed?"

"Actually, I wouldn't say changed. I'd say fixed but that's me for you."

"God, now I know what my...well.. What people think when they talk to me."

"Congratulations."

"But anyway, enlighten me on how I'm similar to John? I'm bored."

"To sum it up, he came to me with phycosmatic limp, during our first case, during the thrill I suppose, he forgot about his cane and ran after me without barely a first thought."

"Well it _was_ a phycosmatic limp, don't get too up yourself."

"He hasn't needed to use it again and now you."

"What about me?"

"You couldn't have been as anxious as you were when we first met as a Homicide Detective, it'd be too difficult. You instantly changed from, what seems like, a different person when you came on this rather unfortunate case, all things considered. So something about this sort of thing seems to change or fix you, like it did to John- but he went in the army yet continues to run around and solve cases involving maniacs. What does that say?"

"I don't know- he enjoys it?"

"Lestrade enjoys his job. John's addicted to it."

"Who the hell is Lestrade?"

"You never worked with him?"

"No. Sherlock, I didn't. There's more than one DI."

"Well. I know that-"

"Just, get on with it. John's addicted to it? So what?"

"So are you."

"Am not. Why would I be addicted to a lifestyle that tries to crack my head open?" Jane sniffed, shuffling into a more comfortable position against Sherlock's shoulder.

There was a long silence, in which Jane thought she had said something offensive, but he finally replied. "I'm not going to bother with explaining just yet, it seems you're too ignorant to realise the facts."

Though his voice didn't sound harsh or angry, just patient and very mildly annoyed, Jane could sense a pair of chips of ice stabbing down at her. She wanted to move away but was too weak and just grunted to show she'd heard before watching, with blurry eyes, the outside rip past.

_'You're too ignorant to realise the facts.'_ Why did that bother me so much? She thought, brow furrowing.

Then it came to her, _Oh. Thats what I used to always tell people...No wonder they didn't talk to me after that. _Jane wanted to wail and scream that it wasn't her fault she had a hard childhood, had to grow up faster than everyone, was ultimately more mature and had different, more adult views on things that no one else her age would understand. _You could have been nicer._ A snarky voice in her head pointed out. _It wasn't that easy! Shut up!_ She screamed back. It went silent and she bit back a sniff, throwing up the mask she always used to use so people didn't have to know how she was feeling.

Even Jane found it scary really, how she could have been crying just a moment before, on the verge of breaking down and just stopping everything but once a friend, teacher or her mum was in sight, her face would change to happy or stoic in an instant,. Wiping the tears away and saying she was fine.

_I'll be fine._

She shut off her thoughts and instead looked down, surprised to find a gloved hand loosely on her waist, as if comforting and then she also noticed that she was up against his body, facing the other way. _Does Sherlock usually do this, because he doesn't seem like the type that would.._. Jane thought, brow furrowed. _Did he know what I was thinking, was I really that obvious?_

But she was grateful for it anyway, he was bloody comfortable and warm and seemed to smell amazing.

It wasn't too much longer when they pulled up to 221B, she nearly groaned out loud, she was so comfortable and stiff, she didn't want to move.

Sherlock's breath hit her neck, "Up you get."

He slowly pushed her into a proper sitting position, paying the driver before sliding out of the cab, and waited for her to get to the door, once she did he pulled her up, one arm around his neck and supported her over to the flat door.

By this time, it was seven am, what would she tell the library staff. "_Oh, I just went out with this detective guy at 4 in the morning and nearly cracked my head open, you?"_

Sherlock unlocked the door, one handed and led her inside, kicking it shut behind him.

Jane let out a moan of complaint when she saw the stairs, Sherlock shook his head, "I'm not carrying you again."

"Aw but _please_!"

"_No_."

She sulked on the spot and had to be forcefully yanked over to the first step, "Come on, you're not fat."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Its an observation."

Slowly, step by step, they made it up the stairs and into the flat, Sherlock dropped her down on the couch just as John entered from the bathroom, "_Where the hell were you_?!"

The taller man waved him off, "Case."

"A case? A case, that seemed to be in the middle of the night. You didn't bother telling me at all?"

Jane found it all rather amusing, it was like watching Sherlock be scolded by his mother.

"Oh we were fine, John!" He glanced at her, "Well partially."

John stalked over to her, "Sit up for me." His voice instantly gentle. In the background, sherlock rolled his eyes and walked off toward the bathroom.

While John checked her over, Jane couldn't help but feel her eyelids drooping once more, she just really wanted to finally sleep.

"Can I go to sleep?" She mumbled drearily.

"Let me just patch up this head wound, luckily you won't need stitches, but it came close. What the hell was Sherlock thinking?"

"I dunno but he made sure I didn't go to sleep and rescued me from a dark room with the door jammed."

"Rescued you?"

"It sounds more amusing."

"Well no more of that for a while."

She couldn't help the small, "Aw." That escaped her lips.

John shook his head, "There all done." He announced just as Sherlock entered the room again, bare footed in suit pants and a dress shirt with wet hair.

_Oo_. Jane's mind did a flip at _that_. She forced herself to look away, "I should probably get to my flat then."

"Nonsense, you can stay here to sleep for now, plus I need to check and change that head wound now and then." John told her, standing up.

"Oh, um. Okay."

Sherlock took a seat at the kitchen table, setting up a microscope, "You can take my room, I would suggest John's but he had a female over last night."

"Oh gross- cheers." Jane shivered and stood up, shaky, and stretched.

The shorter man muttered something and showed her to Sherlock's room.

"You don't seem to mind to much about what Sherlock just said."

"I'm used to it...sort of."

"Right."

He opened the door to the bedroom, "There you go. If you need anything, just call, the bathroom is just beside it."

"You sure Sherlock won't mind?"

"He hardly uses it, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Okay...well thanks."

John flashed a smile, "No problem." Before shutting the door and heading off, leaving her alone in Sherlock's room.

It was tidy and rather plain, with solid yet dull colours, a few books, science things and a picture frame of what seemed to be him with he was much younger with what Jane guessed was his brother and parents stood in front of a large estate. Nothing really interesting apart from that but at the moment his rather comfortable looking bed was. She undressed to her underwear and crawled in, slightly hesitantly but instantly closed her eyes and sunk in when his scent overwhelmed her. Completely missing the argument in the kitchen.

It didn't take very long at all to get to sleep and when she did, it was fitful and the best sleep she'd ever had.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Sorry for the wait, I've been busy, busy, busy. But I hope this chapter makes up for it!_**

A sudden, low _thunk_ awoke the sleeping girl, tangled in white bed sheets. She snapped her eyes open, heart pounding instantly and looked around to see a sheepish looking detective.

The past days events flashed in her mind and she blinked, relaxing back into the bed, "Hi there." Jane slurred.

"Mm, morning." Sherlock's deep voice resonated, eyes shifty.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, I was _trying_ to get my nicotine patches without waking you but...as it seems, I have failed that task." He motioned to the pack of nicotine patches and a few books now splayed on the ground.

"You're quitting smoking? Didn't know you smoked."

"I don't smoke but nicotine patches are the only thing John will allow for my need of stimulated brain function."

"Just drink an energy drink." Jane mumbled, still hazy from sleep.

"Dull."

With that he dropped to the ground, picked up the objects- placing the the books back on the shelf before turning to go, but paused.

Jane frowned.

He paused some more.

Hesitated.

Then turned around and said, "Sorry for waking you." And left, shutting the door with a near silent click.

Sorry did _not_ seem to fit right on Sherlock's tongue, it sounded rather odd. Jane closed her eyes for a few moments.

_Ugh, I won't be getting back to sleep._ So she pushed the sheets off and tried to get up, the world in a blurred haze.

Jane lifted her arms above her head and arched her back in a long stretch, beginning to wake up properly and the sudden anxiety of her position drummed down on her.

_Shit_. She pulled at her hair, _What the hell am I doing?_

She tried to convince herself that this was it, she'd thank Sherlock and John and leave but in the back of her mind she knew she'd never dream of doing that now. Not when she could see something living for.

The urge for a shower gave her a slight headache, shower's were like her coffee, she couldn't function without one every morning. Throwing on her clothes she padded out of Sherlock's bedroom and down the small hallway into the kitchen, it was no where near as cold as her flat.

Sherlock was sat in his chair, hands in a prayer like fashion and grey/blue eyes staring at nothing but everything at the same time; when Jane entered the room, John bustled about the kitchen making tea, he smiled when she entered.

"Morning, would you like some tea or coffee?"

"Coffee please, also I was um wondering if I would be able to have a shower, clean myself up a bit from last night." She threw a pointed look at Sherlock who seemed not to notice.

"Oh, yeah sure. Go for it, you can borrow the spare towel, its the white one by the sink." The shorter man instructed, finding the coffee jar.

"Cheers." With one last glance at Sherlock, she smiled at John and left back down the hallway, turning to the door left ajar which held the bathroom.

Finding the towel, she put it beside the shower and undressed, stepping in and relishing in the feel of hot water. _I am such a clean freak._ She mused to herself.

* * *

Jane could hear voices when she came back out, cleaned and dry after reapplying the bandage on the back of her head.

"Please." Came Sherlocks voice.

"Nope." She made out Johns commanding voice, though he sounded 300% done.

"Don't be like that."

"I'm not giving them to you."

She entered the living room with Sherlock seemingly bouncing around the flat with staccato energy while John finished up the tea and coffee in the kitchen, placing them on the crowded table.

"Here's your coffee Jane." John said, forcing a smile on his stressed features.

"Thanks-"

"Jane tell John to give me my cigarettes!" The consulting detective called with a whine.

"I thought you didn't smoke."

"I have my moments."

"But just this morning...You said you didn't."

"Nicotine patches wasn't enough."

"You have a case, why do you need the cigarettes?" John butted in, taking a seat in his chair with a steaming mug of tea.

"The case makes no sense! There's hardly any evidence and when there is, they don't fit!" He shouted, yanking at his curls in frustration.

It was then Jane properly noticed that he was only wearing suit pants and a red dressing gown, _Damn_. Her mind slurred, she mentally slapped herself and ignored it.

"Tell us what you know then because the only thing I know is that someone killed themselves by jumping off the second storey and her brother broke in to see." She tried, taking a tentative sip of her coffee.

Sherlock looked at her, "She couldn't have jumped though."

"Couldn't she- _oh_. The window."

"Exactly, the window was there when she jumped. Why didn't she just go to the roof of her house, it was flat roofed."

"So, she could have been...pushed?"

A glare was sent her way, "Who pushes someone out of a window if they want to make it look like suicide?"

"You did." The blonde haired man grunted, flicking through the newspaper.

"No I didn't- when did I do that?"

"The man who hit Mrs. Hudson, come on, I'm not the only one who found the report on his injuries of 'falling out of a window' bloody stupid."

He went silent but narrowed his gaze at John.

"You pushed someone out a window?" Jane asked disbelievingly. "And how do you it was set up to look like suicide?"

"Shut up that's not the problem at the moment, and thats the only thing that makes sense, how else could it have happened?" He seethed and whirled around in despair.

She went silent and frowned, taking a seat on the couch, trying to ignore his first harsh comment before replying, "It could have been an accident."

"Shot in the dark, not a very bright one though- The window; it was about half a meter off the ground. How often do you hear people falling out of windows?"

"Just because its unlikely doesn't mean it can't happen."

Sherlock turned back to face her, "What do you do when you try to solve a case Jane? Do you not order things from most likely to least likely, do you not delete things?"

She furrowed her brow at the sudden question, "Uh- I guess I just..." She cleared her throat, "I like to have my notebook with me. I write down all the possibilities I can think of, I ask my colleagues what they think- if there's a trend I highlight that option."

"Hardly worthwhile." He butted in.

"Maybe not but it helps me to _think_."

"I go through each possibility with all the evidence we have, usually that crosses a lot off the list but just because its off the list doesn't mean it didn't happen. Do you not understand?"

John, who was watching the conversation in stunned silence, cleared his throat, "Be nice Sherlock."

"If there's no evidence to prove the theory then what's the point?"

"There is _always_ the possibility it was set up."

"You always think that, in all of your cases?"

"I've only been in one myself, but I used to watch the news stories a lot and actually happened to solve a few."

The dark haired man stared at her for a while, sharp eyes seemingly cutting through her flesh. Jane shifted uncomfortably and took a long sip of her coffee.

It was a while of silence until something hit her, she spoke up, "The brother, its odd isn't it?"

Sherlock only raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he knew exactly where to go to see where his sister jumped, fell, whatever. I heard him right when he entered and we weren't making any noise."

He nodded, understanding, "You think he did it?"

"Actually no, scratch that. He's her brother, of course he knew where to go." She looked down at her coffee in embarrassment.

"No." His voice was suddenly closer, she glanced sideways and found him beside her now, "The family was and is away on holiday when it happened, they're coming back today I believe."

"Her brother could have stayed-"

"Did you see the place? It all suggested one person was living there and rather pig like, might I add. She was enjoying herself."

"So where was the brother, if they're still on holiday, how was he there?"

"Haven't figured that out yet but remember, we don't actually know if he was telling the truth, for all we know he was the murderer."

There was nothing more after that and Sherlock turned towards the window, opening up a case and pulling out a violin before tuning it. Jane sat and finished her coffee, listening to sharp and low pings of the violin as she thought.

_He's right, it barely makes sense. _

John got up and took her coffee to wash, as she absently sat there. Eventually Sherlock pulled out a bow and began playing a piece she recognised as Bach, the only one she seemed to really like, but couldn't remember the name.

_How the hell does someone play like that?_ She pondered in admiration, _Sure, I can play the piano pretty well but come on._

While she sat there, her phone buzzed and she grimaced, guessing what it would be about. She pulled it out from her jeans and opened up the message.

**Where the hell were you? You can't just skip work without a reason, I don't really like it either but come on Jane. Toby may fire you. - Ellis D**

Jane tried not to smirk at what the signature sounded like and quickly texted back,

**Something important came up...to do with my old job. Apologise for me. - J.**

It took barely a moment for Ellis's reply and Jane could almost hear her sigh,

**I can't keep doing this for you. Hows 'Cheekbones?' - Ellis D**

**You love me anyway, and how do you know I've even spoken to him yet? - J.**

**Well have you? - Ellis D**

**Maybe. - J.**

**You have! Omg, when is your wedding. - Ellis D.**

**Funny. - J.**

**How is he, give me goss. - Ellis D.**

**No. - J,**

**Aw come on, I do all of this for you, you gotta give me something in return. - Ellis D**

She nearly considered it,

**Sorry, maybe another time. - J.**

**You love him. - Ellis D**

**Oh you're going to have babies and raise a family and live in a quirky flat in London. - Ellis D**

Jane locked her phone and put it away, deciding not to respond to her friends weird obsessions with her finding a boyfriend. She instead looked back at the silhouette of the strange man she met only two days ago and since then broke into a crime scene, got a concussion, slept in his bed and cuddled into him in a taxi.

_Well that makes it sound stupid._ She frowned. _It_ is _stupid_.

* * *

_"Jane meet your new Detective Inspector Timothy." The grey haired man smiled, gesturing to the younger, brown haired inspector, who turned around with a smile and held out his hand._

_"Ah, Miss Jane. A pleasure."_

_"Yes, you too." She smiled awkwardly._

_"I saw that you didn't fill in your last name on the information sheet, is there a problem?" His matching brown eyes narrowed in concern._

_"There is no problem, I assure you. Just a family concern, I'm sure it will be fixed up soon."_

Blue eyes snapped open, sweat shining on the eyelids, and were met with a pair of steely grey ones.

"You seemed to be having a nightmare." Sherlock announced in a low tone.

Jane blinked, trying to get the confusing haze away and to slow her pounding heart. It was dark, the fire blazed behind the grate.

The faint orange glow cast sharp and deep shadows against the outline of Sherlock's face, his cheekbones defined with raw severity, jawline perfectly outlined and cool ice sparking.

She slowly pushed herself up, combing her hair out of her face with her fingers and noticing that she was curled up in John's chair, facing Sherlock who absently plucked the strings from his violin.

"I wouldn't call it a nightmare." She mumbled with a dry throat, clearing it she added, "What's the time?"

"Eleven something PM." He replied, eyes flicking over her face before turning away to look at the fire.

"When did I go to sleep? I can't even remember..."

"Late lunch time, while John was tending to your head wound."

"Where _is_ John?"

"He has work tomorrow, he went to bed."

"What about you? Do you ever sleep?" Jane inquired, stretching her sore and stiff limbs.

His eyes turned back to her, "When I'm on a case I hardly sleep and barely eat."

"That can't be healthy."

A smirk caught his lips, "Probably not but my body is merely transport."

She blinked, "Well, that's quite a unique look on life."

A G tone filled the quiet air, "Hmm."

The abstract shadows on his face were tantalisingly handsome, Jane struggled to think about anything else, "You play pretty well."

"I know."

A laugh bubbled from her dry lips. Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn't press the subject.

"You play piano, correct?" He instead asked.

"Yeah."

"I'll have to hear that sometime."

_Was that a compliment?_ Jane furrowed her brow, _Oh bloody hell, I don't know_,

"Um...Ok, sure."

A while of silence passed between them, she tapped rhythms on the arm rests and listened to the dull crackle of the fire while the tall man in front of her continued to pluck random notes.

"Got anywhere with the case?"

Sherlock looked at her sharply before looking away again, she took that as a no but he didn't want to admit it.

Jane's eyes unconsciously travelled to his perfect cupid's bow lips and an uncontrollable tingle passed through her body, clenching her stomach. She forced herself to look away, feeling annoyed with herself.

"Got anything to drink?"

"Tea, coffee, water, milk- wait. Not milk, didn't get the milk. If you're referring to alcohol, John keeps wine in the cupboard somewhere but he'd most likely try and kill me if I let you at it."

"He doesn't have to know."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Why?"

"Well you seemed to wake up from something that disturbed you in some way and now you're asking for alcohol. That's suspicious enough."

Jane waved him off, "None of your business."

"Never said it was."

"Fine, its none of your concern."

He hitched an eyebrow but nodded towards the kitchen, "Top, right drawer."

Nodding, she got up and shuffled over to the kitchen, feeling his gaze sliding along with her, she reached up and opened the drawer, finding the half empty wine bottle and taking it down. Managing to find a clean glass, she filled it up and walked back over to the seat, taking the bottle with her.

"Set for the night are we?" He gestured to the wine bottle as she set it down.

"I'm getting comfortable."

"Rather soon, you've only known me for two days."

"You told me to move in here for a bit."

"So I did."

Jane stared back at the consulting detective as if waiting for him to challenge her any more, and surprisingly, he did,

"Its strange, how you never say your last name, never write it down, you never mention it."

She felt her heart rate speed up and stifled the urge not to shuffle awkwardly in her seat.

"Do you know it or are simply not telling anyone?" His head tilted to the side, now observing.

"Is it a bad secret, something _dark_?"

Jane glared at him and he smiled, "So yes, then?"

"Shut up." She spat. The conversation had been fine before, why did he have to go ruin it. She took a long swig of her wine.

Sherlock merely shrugged and steepled his fingers, watching her silently.

When he stayed silent she raised her glass and took a second swig.

* * *

One and a half hours and six glasses later, Jane giggled and Sherlock sighed.

"Of course you went and got yourself drunk." He grumbled, shaking out his hair in annoyance.

"_Hot_." She announced to his move, winking.

"For christ sake." He put down his violin and reached over, snatching the half empty glass from her hands along with the now empty wine bottle and took them back to the kitchen.

When he returned she seemed to be trying to copy his thinking pose with mock seriousness, "Why do ya do this, Sherl'?"

"Right, time for bed."

A yawn stretched her jaw and she felt the urge to close her eyes again, "Not tired."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "You can take my bed again if you wish."

"Na, you gotta sleep." She mumbled, resting her head on her hand.

"I'm not sleeping, even if I do, there's a lovely couch beside me."

"Mm, I'm good." Her voice started to slur and she closed her eyes, unable to reopen them.

He sighed, muttering under his breath and bent down. "Come on, off to bed."

"I've known you for two days. _Two_!"

"Yes, good counting."

"Its _funny_."

"You seem to be rather tired, I wouldn't talk, you're almost as bad as John when he comes home drunk after being out with whatever his friends names are."

"You and him should get married."

Sherlock pulled her up, supporting her clumsy weight, "Nope."

Jane allowed her head to loll backward and smiled suggestively up at him as she was half carried, half dragged into Sherlock's bedroom. He tried to ignore it.

"Here we are, I assume you'll be fine from here. Goodnight." Sherlock grunted and tried to prise her off him.

"Na, you gotta stay."

"No I _really_ don't." He urged, pushing her.

"I could choke on my own vomit."

"Unlikely-"

He was cut off as she wrapped his arms around his neck and allowed herself to fall onto the bed, taking him with her. They landed in a heap and he wheezed slightly, "Christ."

"Isn't this _better_?" Jane sighed happily underneath the very uncomfortable form of Sherlock Holmes.

"I can't say I agree, let me up."

"No." She shook her head, giggling.

"Let me _up_."

"_No_!" With that she wrapped her legs around him and kept him down.

"I take back what I said before, you are _worse_ than John when he's drunk."

**_Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! _**

**_Why do you think her last name is such a big deal? Review what you think and if you like the story or not._**

**_till next time! _**


	6. Chapter 6

**_So, so sorry for the wait! I was extremely busy for a while there but once I had the time, I knuckled down and finished this chapter for you guys. Hope you enjoy, your reviews have been great and really kept me going, keep it up They're lovely! ^^_**

_A gentle grip pushed her against the wall, hawk like eyes digging into her skull until she felt soft lips come upon her own. She responded eagerly and found herself running her hands through a mass of curls, electing a slight growl from the man pressed up against her-_

A low breathing against her ear suddenly awoke the sleeping girl with a striking headache and she blinked, groaning and utterly confused.

She felt something pressed up against her, something warm and breathing.

_Oh good god._

Jane risked opening her eyes properly and nearly vomited from both nausea and shock at what she found.

Sherlock, with his body rigid and never really relaxed even though he was asleep was trapped in her now loose grasp. His hair tickled her cheek and his hands were lightly on her wrists, probably when he was trying to get her off.

_Yep, I'm going to have to move to the other side of the world._

Thankfully they were both fully clothed, nothing could have happened- she hoped at least.

Jane found her gaze fixed on the sleeping face of Sherlock Holmes right next to her, with their bodies a tangled mess, she could have relished the feel if it weren't for the sick feeling now rising in her stomach. She unhooked her grip from him and carefully got up, he stirred in his sleep but did not wake up.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she straightened the suggestible messy sheets, picked up two fallen items and placed them back on their designated shelf before slipping into the bathroom silently and shutting the bedroom door.

Leaning against the door she breathed heavily, trying desperately to ignore her dream until she ducked down towards the toilet and puked the remains of her stomach. After a few minutes she got herself together, undressed and stepped into the shower. _I'll have to pick things up from my house if I'm to be staying here any longer- "Toby_!" She hissed, was a sudden drop of her stomach.

"_Mrs Hudson can take care of him, I'm sure._" Sherlock's words rang in her mind and she relaxed, combing out her hair with her long fingers.

Jane deliberately took a rather long shower before gathering up the rest of the dignity she had left, turned it off and started drying off and getting dressed, her headache waning a little.

"Of course, you go and get yourself drunk two days after meeting this guy, Jane. Good work." She scolded quietly to herself, zipping up her jeans and heading out with fear churning every vein in her body.

No one was in the bed when she went back in which stated Sherlock was awake, Jane closed her eyes, _Shit_.

"Morning." A deep throated rumble came from behind her and she whipped around to see a smirking, bed ruffled Sherlock.

She merely swallowed, wide eyed.

Sensing her unspoken question, he shrugged, "Oh nothing happened, you were intoxicated and wished for some sort of comfort when you slept."

"Oh _god_." She groaned, looking down and face palming.

"I had planned to get away from your rather strong grip when you fell asleep but lets just say you were _very_ determined to keep me there."

Jane grimaced, "Sorry."

"So I ended up falling asleep too, which admittedly, seemed to do me good." He seemed thoughtful for a moment before grinning, "I'm sure John saw."

"I might move to China or something."

"No you won't." He took the towel from her and turned to head into the bathroom.

"Kill me." She cursed.

* * *

_I've gotten a little too comfortable too quickly_, Jane decided as she sat on the couch, rubbing her hands together to warm herself up in the coolish flat.

It was then that she noticed her phone on Johns chair, a small light flashing to indicate a message, Jane stood and made her way over before sitting down and opening the message.

**Where are you? You weren't at your flat last night. - M**

The last name initial made her sigh and close her eyes, _not now_... She forced herself to reply.

**Was at a friends. - J**

The reply was worryingly instantaneous,

**A friend? - M**

**Yes, I have friends. Have to go now. - J**

Jane locked her phone before she could be dragged into an argument and chucked the phone over to the couch just to rid herself of it.

"M." The monotone voice she'd grown accustomed to had her jump.

"Huh?" She stuttered, pulling her head away from his close proximity and turned to look at him.

"I'm guessing that's your father. Actually no, not guessing, it said 'Dad' as the contact name. So it was. His initial was 'M'. Last name? Probably."

Jane snorted, "You have nothing to go on that its his last name."

"Maybe not, but you're extremely defensive so I'll take a well educated estimate." Sherlock's eyes were chips of grey ice today and completely devoid of any warmness he expressed earlier.

She shuffled, "I'm not defensive."

He just gave a pointed glare and stalked past her, leaving her feeling like he had just whacked her in the face. Sherlock picked up his violin, dressed in a red dressing gown and started tuning it.

It took a while for her to pluck up the courage to talk again but her pressing headache didn't give her much of a choice, "Could I have some panadol?" Her voice low and shy, like normal.

The tall man beside the window paused, having been in the middle of picking up the violin bow and gestured with it to the kitchen, "Bottom, right drawer."

Jane cleared her throat. "Cheers." And scurried over to the kitchen as he started playing a piece.

Finding the paracetamol after a little trouble she filled a glass of water and gratefully swallowed the tablet and downed the rest of the glass.

She slowly walked back to where she had been sitting, unsure of what to now do when she noticed the file perched on the kitchen bench. Looking rather like a case file.

As she got closer, sure enough, it was and it seemed to be on what they were investigating. Looking up to make sure he wasn't watching, she took it and got comfy again in John's chair before opening it to read, completely oblivious to how he could have gotten it.

Though as she read, it did little to help as it said pretty much what Sherlock and her had already gone through. Jane flicked through a few pages until she reached near the end and a word caught her eye, _second victim_.

_There's a second?_ Jane wondered, surprised.

_Only a few streets from the first supposed suicide victim, Timika Robin age 19 a new body has been found (August 13th), identical by cause of death to Robin. Later found to be Erika Jahve, age 20._

_Though this time the second storey window seemed to be left open or purposely opened, it still appears that Jahve jumped from the storey just as Robin but also having clear signs of struggle. No evidence of an assailant was found to support the signs. The Jahve family originated from Russia and Erika's parents still live there today, Erika having reported to migrated at age 18 and living alone._

A picture of Erika was clipped to the page, showing a dark haired girl with amber eyes and freckles. A chipped smile lacing the features. Nothing really out of the ordinary apart from a girl who hates photographs being taken of her. _Who doesn't?_

Jane quickly flicked back to the details about Timika Robin and read through, scanning for similarities.

_Timika Robin, aged 19 has been reported to have taken her life by jumping through the second storey window of her parents home late last night (August 12th). With her family being away on holiday, she had been apparently the only person at the house at the time. Though her brother Anthony Robin had been staying at a friends house in Cardiff during this time as well._

_With brief examination it does appear to be suicide but closer investigation suggests she had been in fact pushed with struggle marks on the body. While this theory remains the main lead so far, there is no supporting evidence to say there even was someone with Robin at the time of the tragedy. As such, the investigation is on going and inconclusive._

Jane looked closely at the image of Timika, with wine-red hair, orange eyes and a broad smile, there didn't exactly seem to be any similarity. The eye colour was rather the same sure but who kills for eye colour?

She frowned and scrubbed at her face both intrigued and frustrated. A deep voice startled her from her thoughts, "Any thoughts?"

She looked up at Sherlock as he swung his bow down beside him, head gestured to the file in her hands. Jane cleared her throat, "N-Not really. No. Well apart from similarities in age, being alone and eye colour, no."

At this Sherlock jumped over the coffee table towards her and looked at the picture, "Eye colour?"

"I doubt it means anything, its only eye colour."

He leaned in anyway to look closely at the picture, riffling through the file to find the other, completely ignoring personal space with his breath on her cheek, damp hair tickling her face and practically perching atop the arm rest.

Though she didn't complain.

"Interesting." He eventually said, pulling away slightly.

"Ok then."

"Could be useful- yes I already noted the ages and living arrangements at the time along with being close to each other." He drifted off, looking away thoughtfully.

"What about employment? With Erika living in a house alone, she'd have to have a job, maybe its similar or the same to Timika's?"

"Already thought about it, I researched. Erika is a vet and Timika is a library worker- hey. Like you!" He dryly put before getting up and pacing, his hands pressed together.

"Umm. Does Timika come from an Asian country, or Russia too? Since Russia is part of Asia. I don't know, just suggestions." Jane tried but was responded with a sharp shake of his head.

"Good idea, along with Russia being part of Asia- people tend to forget- but no, Timika and her family was born in England."

Jane gave a half hearted laugh and shrugged, "Their names both end in 'ka'."

Sherlock frowned, "Very remote for a similarity but we'll keep it in mind anyway."

"I was joking but glad to be of help I guess."

He grunted in response and went silent.

It was about twenty minutes before he spoke again, his eyes snapped open and he pointed at the case file which Jane read over again. "Timothy Robin, Timika's brother. He was probably the brother who came to see his dead sister and gave you a concussion in the process."

She grimaced and nodded, "Yeah but its strange isn't it?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, she took this as an indicator to go on, "Well it said he was all the way out in Cardiff, that's ages away. Her death had only been the night before we went there. It wouldn't been on the news till later that day. How could he have known?"

Sherlock froze as it sunk in his mind then a grin broke out on his face and he skipped forward, grabbing her by the arms and kissing her on the cheek, "Brilliant Jane! Come along, we're going to Cardiff!"

Jane sat stunned for a moment, relishing the brief contact and sudden swamp of his scent on her before she blinked and stuttered, "Y-yeah. Right." Stumbling, she got up and grabbed her coat and scarf from the couch before tying on her shoes and following the over exciting detective out of the flat.

* * *

"So why exactly are we going to Cardiff, we don't really know where he lives and how do we know he's even there?" Jane asked after about a half hour of silence in the cab.

"You're right, he wouldn't have seen the news report until much later after we left the crime scene. Upon seeing where he was meant to be, he would have raced back there so he wouldn't become a suspect and then most likely go back after a couple days as the sad and lost brother." Sherlock explained, turning his head to face her.

Jane nodded, "Sounds reasonable, how do we know where he lives?"

"I didn't until a few minutes ago, I managed to get Lestrade to take a look for me and give me the address." He smirked a brief little smirk before looking back out the window.

"Neat." She murmured, shuffling in her seat to get comfy for the ride and closed her eyes.

* * *

The day was at its peak by the time they arrived, pulling up at a rather quiet street with houses living in close quarters with one another but not exactly flat like.

Jane followed Sherlock out of the cab, paying the taxi and stretching as soon as there was no roof above her head. A yawn strained her jaws and she blinked against the lightened scene.

"Anthony's friends Daniel lives on the 3rd house of Hensrow Street." Sherlock instructed, nodding to a dull, red bricked single storey house squatting behind a very thin sliver of damp garden surrounded by a peeling, white picket fence.

They started over to it, "So what are we actually going to do? As soon as he see's us he's either going to panic or bash us."

"How colourful." He mused.

"Sherlock!"

He huffed, "I have John's gun, no need to worry."

"Wow, a gun. I'm very relieved because usually when you have a gun you intend to use it. So you think he'll attack us?"

"What else is he going to do, once he see's us he'll know we're onto him. Its not hard to fit two and two together." Sherlock pulled out the hand gun and wiggled it in front of her.

She glared at it, feeling the usual nerves of both excitement and fear starting up, "Thanks for the warning." Jane muttered through gritted teeth.

"Oh you love it, want to hold the gun?"

"Yes."

She grabbed it and stuck it in her jeans, making sure the safety was on and hidden by her coat.

They reached the short cement path to the front door, the windows on each side of the door were covered with a grey curtain. "Here we are." Sherlock announced cheerfully though hushed and strolled up the door, using the rusting knocker to give them away.

"I don't think he'll let us pop in for a cup of tea Sherlock." She hissed, coming up beside him.

"Don't be so boring." Was all he said in response.

She wanted to continue talking but she heard footsteps approaching from within the house and the door was opened, revealing a boy looking about 20 with short ginger hair and blue eyes. Not Anthony.

"Uh, hi. Can I help you?"

Jane was stunned by the sudden change in the man next to her.

"Yes, I'm so sorry for disturbing you but my sister and I, we're dreadfully lost and our phones are out of battery, may we, may we use your phone? Our friends will be worried." His voice stuttered and cracked a few times along the sentence, sounding like he was on the verge of crying.

_My sister and I? Huh, I never noticed we looked similar._

The boy then looked concerned and nodded, "Yeah sure, come in. Can I make you anything? Tea?" He asked as he ushered us in.

Sherlock gave her a look at the word 'tea' and continued his act, shuffling along behind the boy. He sniffed, "Yes, thank you. That would be so kind!"

"No problem, the house phone is just there on the table, I'll make you that cuppa." The ginger haired boy slipped into the kitchen, still visible from the room.

Jane took the opportunity to get a good look at the house, wooden floorboards, brick walls, an open kitchen sat at the back of the room with a small, round table beside it which held the phone. To the left was a closed door and beside it was another space holding a green couch, rug and T.V. The short hallway from which they came held a few pictures of pets and what seemed to be family members. Another hallway ran off to the right, with two doors on one side and one of the other.

Not many real signs someone else was living here.

"Now what Sherlock?" Jane whispered as he twiddled the phone.

"I may have made a mistake." He admitted, brow furrowed.

"What?"

"Anthony isn't here."

The boy came out of the kitchen and Sherlock quickly pretending to end a call, "Thank you so much for that, our friend is on his way to pick us up. We were so silly weren't we Janet, so silly with that party."

She raised an eyebrow at _Janet_ but didn't question it, instead she mimicked his emotion and nodded, "Yes, we should never have gone alone, we didn't know where we were going!" She faked a short laugh and shook her head.

'Ginger hair' gave them each a cup of tea and smiled, "Sorry to hear that, I'm Tim by the way." He held out a hand to Jane and then Sherlock, who responded with, "I'm Carl. Good to meet such a nice young man. This is a lovely home!"

She nodded along and took a long sip of the hot tea, it actually wasn't that good in her opinion.

Once they had finished, Sherlock shook Tim's hand again and said, "Thank you for this, we should be going. We were to meet our friend at the main road."

Tim nodded and took their cups from them, "Of course, glad to have helped. I hope you get home safely."

He led them out the door and waved a goodbye before leaving them alone on the street.

"Good bloody job, _Carl_." Jane sneered, glaring at the dark haired man beside her.

"I got us out of there rather well." He defended, pouting.

"Right." She rolled her eyes and started walking toward the main road, he followed suit.

"So all of that was for nothing then? I didn't even get to use his toilet." Jane complained, kicking a rock. Sherlock shrugged, "It told us that he wasn't here and that's a result."

"Ok, sure but where is he then?"

A click of a safety going off made them freeze in their tracks and the cold barrel of a gun pressed up against the back of her head. She swallowed.

"Right here."

Ooh, cliffhanger. Jane seems to like Sherly, never saw that coming... :P

Hope you liked it, I'll update as soon as I can. Please review! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**"Ok, sure but where is he then?"**

**A click of a safety going off made them freeze in their tracks and the cold barrel of a gun pressed up against the back of her head. She swallowed.**

**"Right here."**

Jane saw Sherlock look at her from the corner of her eye, as if a silent conversation.

"Hello." He replied to their assailant behind them, almost cheerful.

"I'm not stupid, I know who you are." Anthony snarled.

"Oh don't worry, we're well aware. You don't normally turn a weapon on someone you don't know...unless of course you're someone who likes throwing people out of windows." Sherlock shrugged casually as if he was unaware of what he had just implied.

"I didn't kill them you idiot!"

"Them? The second victim hasn't been on the news yet." Jane piped up, turning her head ever so slightly.

"What? No, I meant I didn't kill her, my sister. Why would I? Have you been telling the police that I did?!" He started to panic, she felt the gun shake against her skull.

"I haven't told the police anything, calm down Anthony." Sherlock tried, raising his hands slightly as to calm him by showing he wasn't going to do anything. They couldn't screw this up now.

"But you will, won't you?"

"We're not-" She tried but was suddenly and violently whacked over the head with the gun.

The sun was in her eyes when she blinked, cold road pressed up against her and gravel in her mouth. Sharp, stabbing pains racked her cranium as she tried to move her head, dull throbbing sounds popped in her ears and the wind rushed in. There wasn't any sound of a scuffle going on, just low talking and, and footsteps. She winced.

Jane then saw the dots of blood on the pavement and inwardly groaned and probably having reopened her head wound.

"You alright?" Came a blurred voice of Sherlock, she weakly raised an arm and gave a thumbs up before dropping it and trying to recover from being stunned.

She closed her eyes and listened to the conversation, waiting for the daze to pass, "You can trust us Anthony."

"Really? Can I? Everyone will think it was me, I was just- no. It wasn't me, wasn't me."

"I believe you. It wasn't you. We can help you just maybe lower the gun." She hear Sherlock try and persuade smoothly.

"So you can raise yours?" Anthony counted.

"I'm unarmed."

"Is she?"

Jane cracked her eyes open, still feeling nauseated and noticed the gun loosely directed at her before going back to train on the taller man.

Sherlock hesitated, "Nope."

"I don't believe you." He glared, eyes narrowed.

"Look, Anthony. We're not going to do anything but help you if you lower the gun."

"Thats what they say to crazy people."

"I hadn't noticed."

There was a long while of silence, a bird twittered overhead and Sherlock restlessly shuffled under the eye of barrel. Anthony seemed to be considering everything, chewing his lip with a panicked look in his eye. Jane tried to sit up and bit back a groan of pain from her pounding headache, managing to lean herself up on her arms.

Eventually Sherlock took a step forward, being impatient and Anthony instantly cocked his gun, aiming without a waver at his chest.

_Idiot_! Jane thought to herself, struggling desperately to stand up now.

"No- Stop it!" He yelled, "Stay down, go away!"

Sherlock held out his arms, "You didn't do it."

"No, I didn't!"

"I believe you Anthony. You're panicking, acting rashly."

This seemed to calm him down slightly and Jane staggered as she finally stood up, managing to keep balance.

But then a siren split the quiet air in the distance and Anthony became enraged, "You called the police! _You called the police!"_

"We didn't but you're pointing a gun around in the middle of a street, someone has probably seen. That's why I was trying to get you _away_."

Jane took a few steps back toward Sherlock and warily looked at the windows, seeing a few curtains twitch. The sirens were gradually getting louder and Anthony was gradually getting more panicked.

He seemed completely confused now as to what to do, _We definitely screwed things up._ Jane grimaced but she also found she was enjoying it, in the back of her mind. The thrill, the excitement.

_I think I'm crazy._ She mused before snapping back to reality, the sirens were piercing the distant air, clear through the treetops, blazing and whirring.

Suddenly Anthony bounded away, sprinting deeper onto the street, Sherlock immediately took off after him and Jane swore before following.

Having noticed their chase, he screamed "No!" And fired blindly behind him, the crack and boom of the gun shoot made her stumble and consciously cover her head with her arms, she wasn't used to it. It thundered in the air and when she looked up again she realised Sherlock wasn't standing in front of her anymore.

Anthony was gone, his frantic footsteps vanished under the loud police and ambulance sirens. Jane look down, seeing blood, seeing Sherlock. "Oh god." She dropped to her knees, feeling dizzy from her head and rolled the limp figure over, hoping he was alright.

She was met with red soaking a white dress shirt and she started shaking, looking up to Sherlock's face. His eyes were partly closed and pale face scrunched in pain.

_The police are on their way, he'll be fine. Where's he been shot? Apply pressure to the wound Jane._

Jane scrambled to undo the suit button and find the bullet wound, she ripped off her jacket and pressed it tightly against the wound causing a weak yelp of pain, "Stay awake Sherlock. Its your turn now, come on." She gently tapped him on the cheek to open his eyes, "Stay awake, the police are nearly here."

It must be a weird sight, two people in the middle of the road in a quiet street, one bleeding to death, the other with a gun- oh no, the gun.

"Sherlock!"

"Mm." He groaned tiredly.

"What do I do with the gun?"

He looked at her bleary eyed and coughed before saying, "Put it in my coat."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, grimacing all the while and tried to move but ended up gritting his teeth to hold back a scream.

Hating to see the man she'd known as the extravagant, inordinate, arrogant asshole turned into a bloodied mass of powerless and limited time, Jane quickly pulled out the weapon and opened Sherlock's coat delicately, making sure not to hurt him any more and tucked the gun in the inside coat pocket. She then continued to apply pressure to his wound, trying to ignore the weak sounds of distress.

"That...wasn't part of the plan." He rasped.

"You think?"

"He uh...was too crazed...I thought he'd be..._enraged_."

"Well he was by the end." She tried a smile but it quickly faltered as the consulting detective closed his eyes and lolled his head to the side.

"Hey- Sherlock, Sherlock! I stayed awake for you, don't be an ass!" Jane stuttered, trying to wake him up. He stirred very slightly and seemed to just be conscious.

The sirens were rolling in the wind, they were so close now, only a minute away at the latest. Jane felt tired, felt dizzy. She looked down and saw her own dried blood now replaced with Sherlock's, covering her hands and soaking her jeans.

Her head wound heightened in pain as the sirens seemed to split open her skull further. _They'll be here any second, you'll both be fine. The bullet hit his stomach not his heart. _

Her eyelids grew heavy and a dew tears slipped out, the sudden adrenaline of it all, the shock, it was too much and she felt the corners of her vision darkening, she fell forward and their positions from the night before were switched.

She passed out against him as the police and ambulance came around the corner into the street, a weak and frail arm from the suffering man below managed to loosely curl around her waist and his breathing slowed even further, succumbing to the blackness as shouts were heard from behind.

A faint beeping woke Jane and she tried to roll over and go back to sleep, planning on pulling on the covers but found a sheet instead and her finger feeling strange. Different smells tingled her nose and she grimaced, scrunching her face in disgust. Hospital.

She hated hospital smells.

She opened her eyes and rubbed the sleep with them, blinking blearily eyed at the heart monitor beside her, though not for her.

A pulse monitor was clipped onto her index finger, with her own silent screen to show her heart rate. _Just like the last time I was in hospital from dehydration. Nothing too serious._

Jane still felt a little confused, she usually remembered everything from before- not like in movies where the victim seemed to forget everything. There were small strings of information attached to her mind. Blood, that was one. Red and blue lights. Sirens. Red and blue. Red and blue. Gunshot. Red and blue- oh. She remembered.

Oh god, has John been told-

"Hey Jane."

Speak of the devil.

She turned her head to face away from the monitor and instead found a blue couch beside her bed, John sat with his knees bouncing- probably from stress, and stress lines very visible.

"Hi..John. How's...where is he?" She blabbed a bit, trying to sit up. She had a headache but apart from that, seemed reasonably fine.

"He came out of surgery about a half hour ago, he's just over there." He gestured to the bed she was sharing the room with, where the dull _beep...beep...beep_ came from.

Sure enough, the lanky bastard lay there in his own hospital bed, thicker sheets covering him and more tubes connected to his body than her. He seemed fine, she let out a sigh of relief.

"Lestrade was the one who called me, he had appeared on the scene." John continued as she dragged her gaze from Sherlock.

"They didn't catch _Anthony_. Cheers for telling me by the way." He muttered, scrubbing at his face.

"Sorry."

"You're like a female version of Sherlock, I swear to god and I barely know you."

Jane laughed at that and got comfy on the bed, "Well, how about we start now? While we wait for _Mr Lets-Get-Shot-On-The-Second-Day-Of-The-Case_ to wake up. I'm bored."

Before he could reply, a nurse, looking about her age, came in and after checking Sherlock's vital signs, bustled over to her and looked her over. "Feeling alright, dear?"

Jane tried a smile, "Yeah, just a headache."

"I can get you some painkillers for that and you should be alright. We had to stitch up the wound on the back of your head as it worsened so it may be sore for the next few days. Rest and keep out of trouble for a week or two and you'll be right as rain." The nurse smiled and left to get her the painkillers.

"Cheers." Jane said before turning back to John, "Nice lady."

"Yeah...I'd say." His eyes stayed fixed on the door. Jane snorted.

"I'm beginning to think you're some sort of lady's man."

He blushed, "At least you don't think I'm gay."

"Its in my mind somewhere."

"Great."

Jane shifted again, hating silence. She tried to conjure up a conversation, "So, how long have you known Sherlock?"

"A few years now, we met purely by luck of my old friend who noticed we were both in need of a flatmate."

"Yep, defs gay." She grinned, "Sounds like some sort of a love story."

He shot her a pointed look and sniffed, "Hush. Tell me about yourself then, if you want us to know each other better. _Not_ my sexuality."

The nurse flitted in again and handed Jane a glass of water and two pills to take, after thanking her the nurse went over to Sherlock once more, adding something to a tube connected to his body before leaving once again.

Jane watched with curiosity, _morphine_? The heart rate monitor slowed a little and stayed a gradual pace, she hadn't even noticed it was heightened slightly.

_Crappy doctor I'd make._

She cleared her throat and looked back at John's expectant face, she held up a finger and took the painkillers before talking. He rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm Jane."

"Wow."

"I know right. Mindblown."

"Utterly."

Jane laughed and continued, "Sherlock pretty much covered everything. Used to be a homicide detective, got forced out of the job by my over protective mother. My dad wanted me to stay in the force and tried but to no avail. I live in an insufferably cold flat with my cat Toby, play Grade 9 piano. I would be 10 but my studies kept me back, I write novels and poetry, read and well...used to swim competitively, I stopped when I got into the force."

"Grade 9 piano? I'd love to hear that sometime. You should start up swimming again, you've got the perfect build for it." He nodded, listening along.

"Is that a compliment or a flirt?"

"Compliment."

She pretended to pout and he chuckled, "Wouldn't mind reading a book of yours either."

"Sorry, no can do."

"Why not?"

"I hate people reading my stuff unless I'm 100% positive its fine."

John frowned, "I understand that I guess. We should go out for a pint sometime."

"Are you asking me out?" It was Jane's turn to frown.

"Don't worry, I know you're not interested. Me neither- wait. That sounded harsh."

"Its fine, yeah that'd be nice." Though her insides quivered at the thought of social interactions one on one, she had to force herself into these situations more.

A groan alerted them to Sherlock's awakening, Jane unclipped the pulse monitor without much thought and bounded over, John right beside her.

The pale detective beneath them shifted and squinted open his eyes, brow furrowed. "Hello." He mumbled, hazy with sleep and morphine.

"How are you feeling?" John asked, coming around the other side to check him.

Sherlock weakly flapped him away, "Mfine Jawn." He slurred. "How's uhm...how Jane?"

_Well isn't that cute._

"I'm fine Sherlock." She replied as he turned his head to where her voice came from.

"Need anything, water? Food?" John asked, checking over the detectives vital signs anyway.

"Wa-her, would...be nice." He seemed close to falling asleep again as John quickly left to get a cup of water.

Through his slackening eyelids, Sherlock grimaced and tried to get into a more comfortable position with all the wires and tubes. "Sorry."

"What for? I didn't get shot."

"Still...I wouldn't ex-actly say...this has been the best, uhm, best- thing." He seemed too lazy to compose proper words together, completely giving up on the word case.

"Its fine Sherlock." Jane smiled, amused.

"Don laugh at me." He protested indignantly but closed his eyes.

"At least stay awake to have some water, John should be here any second."

A low _hmm_ was given in response, she guessed it was some sort of a 'fine'.

A few moments later, John entered with a plastic cup and straw in hand, he went around and lightly tapped Sherlock's arm to get him to face him, which he did with a groan of tiredness.

John fed him the straw to drink and a few seconds later, the water was completely gone and the detective was fast asleep. Hair ruffled, dull, grey circles around his eyes and mouth slightly open.

Jane watched a bit longer before retreating back to her bed and putting on the discarded clip onto her finger, nestling back into the pillows. She felt tired herself.

John settled down on the couch and said something, which she heard but didn't register. Her eyes were closed and she sighed. Falling asleep.

**_Sorry for it being short! I hope you enjoyed in anyway, leave a review and tell me what you think. ;D_**


	8. Chapter 8

_**Oh my god. I am so sorry! I never meant to not update for that long! I keep giving you excuses, I'm sorry. In my defence, I have had a shitty few weeks with heaps of assignments and tests, I work my butt off. But I got a few A's, so it was worth it. I will try and update this next chapter as soon as possible, though I again have a lot of assignments due next week BUT its the last week of Term 2 so hopefully I'll be updating regularly over the 2 week break. Yay!**_

_**Please keep reviiewing, they really make my day' :) Constructive critism is aleays appreciated. Also, I noticed that I changed Anthony's friend's name from Brodie to Tim...woops. He's Tim, roll with it. XD**_

_**Enjoy ~**_

* * *

**1 week later.**

"Sherlock I'm not taking you outside just so you can deduce people and make them miserable." Jane sighed, rubbing her brow.

He sighed dramatically, "But I'm _so_ bored!"

"Yes, just like the whole past week."

After being discharged from hospital after a day of being there, Jane made use of the rest of it by going to her flat to get a change of clothes, wash and pack some things if she were to stay at 221B.

She returned to the hospital every chance she got and asked for a two week leave from the library, explaining with honesty that her friend was injured.

_Friend_. She suddenly noticed. _That was quick. Have I made a friend?_

Jane frowned and leaned back in her chair beside Sherlock's bed, _Its only been longer than a week and I'd usually drive people off by now._

"Stop thinking so hard, its annoying."

_I suppose its the same for him too._

"Hush." She flapped him off and took a sip of her coffee, it wasn't the best she'd ever tasted and she made a face.

"When can I _leave_ Jane?" Sherlock whined, throwing his head back. She cocked an eyebrow and shook her head.

"It can't be long now, I'd say three more days max. Though my moneys on two."

"Didn't know you were a betting kind of girl."

"I'm not."

"Naturally."

They looked at each other in silence, eyes narrowed until he broke it again by complaining, "Two days is ages away!"

"For gods sake." Jane stood up and stretched, putting her coffee in the bin by the room door and walking back.

"Why are you here?" Sherlock suddenly asked like it had been bothering him for ages.

She stuttered slightly, having not expected it, "Sorry?"

"You hate hospitals, almost as much as me. I can tell. So why do you keep coming here?"

A shrug lifted her shoulders and she looked past him, "I don't know...I want to make sure you're um, alright."

"I'm in a hospital. Of course I'm alright, no matter how much I despise them." He looked closely at her and she shifted, feeling uncomfortable in the unwavering, calculating gaze.

It was a few minutes still she got the courage to speak again, looking at his face. His eyes were grey today. _Heterachromia, isn't it? Huh, I have it too._

_Stop getting distracted Jane_! She opened her mouth and paused, blinked and finally said, "I can leave if you want."

It was his turn to shrug, "I don't care. I just want to get out this godforsaken place. _God_!" Sherlock then looked straight at her as if he'd come up with an amazing idea, "Do you think they allow cigarettes?"

"No, Sherlock. They don't...its a hospital." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "Smoking isn't good for you, sweetie."

"Don't sass me."

"Sure thing."

"Stop it, I hate it even when John does it."

"That's nice dear."

He glared at her like a child and humphed, mimicking her crossed arms and refused to look at her. Jane took the peace and quiet happily and rested back, closing her eyes.

_Ellis is going to ask so many questions when I go back to work. She could picture her now, "Who's this friend? Is it the guy you met in the library? Are you married yet?"_ Jane nearly laughed, she would be so excited, bouncing around like a puppy.

Her mind wandered, _I'm still not sure on wether Sherlock and I are friends. Sure, we've now been in danger together, I've gotten drunk around him, slept in his bed more than once, okay I should probably stop now. This isn't working in my defence- especially the fact that I'm now pretty much living with them for the time being._

_You'd think we were friends I guess...He seems pretty alright, we get along OK. I trust him. He's also admittedly pretty hot._

Jane mentally slapped herself, _Shut up! He probably knows what you're thinking or some crap._

Thankfully, a text alert snapped her back to reality and she dug it out of her pocket, trying to ignore the prying eyes of the bored consulting detective.

**Call me - M**

She sighed, too lazy to be bothered but forced herself to stand up, "I have to take a call, you'll be fine?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, clearly deducing everything he could in mere moments before kinking an eyebrow in distaste, "I'll be fine."

"Alright." With that, she turned to leave and started punching in the numbers to her phone. The receiver picked up almost instantly and she smiled, "Hey dad." Shutting the room door behind her.

"Hello Jane, you seem happy." He said, voice smooth.

"I suppose, it's been an alright few days." Jane replied, finding a quiet spot outside Sherlock's private room- thanks to his brother which she had the good fortune not to meet.

"That's good, any particular reason?"

_Well damn._

"I met someone- wait sorry. Not in that way, I just meant I made a friend...I think."

"You think?"

"Yeah well, it seems complicated."

"I've been meaning to catch up with you in person, maybe you could bring this friend along?"

She frowned, _Sherlock meeting my dad...I don't think that'd go down well. They're both so dramatic._

"Maybe, he's a little socially...inapplicable." Jane tried, furrowing her brow at her poor choice of words.

"No wonder you became friends." Her dad mused, he seemed to be walking down a hallway, until he clearly came to a room as it went quiet.

"He's a detective too! Well..._he_ is. _I'm_ not." She muttered, slouching in her seat. "Anymore."

Her dad seemed to pause for a moment, "Detective you say?"

Jane instantly got worried, _Oh no, is he beginning to agree with mum?_ "Yeah...what's wrong with that?"

Sensing her worry, he quickly replied, "Oh don't worry. I was merely interested."

"So...what have you been up to?" She asked, bouncing her knees and switching the phone to her right hand.

"The usual. Busy, busy, busy. Stupid people."

Jane laughed, "You remind me of him now."

"Him? _Oh_, right. All the more reason to bring him along, I'm sure we'd get on."

"I'll see what I can do. When would this be?"

"I'd say a few weeks."

"Alright, well I'd love to keep talking more but my battery is nearly dead. I'm going to have to go." Jane explained, noting her 5% charge.

"I'll call again soon then. Goodbye Jane."

"Bye dad, love you."

She ended the call and pocketed her phone, sitting in the quiet hallway for a while longer. _Sherlock meeting dad. Good god._

Her face crinkled in a grin at the thought and she eventually got up, stretched and made her way back into Sherlock's room, finding him asleep. Smiling, she settled on the couch and closed her eyes herself.

* * *

_"Daddy...what's going on?" Little Jane cried fearfully, clutching her toy penguin._

_Her dad turned around, shock passing on his features. He was dressed like he was going out somewhere, little Jane was confused._

_"Nothing sweetie, go back to bed."_

_But little Jane looked around his body in the living room to see a cowering shape on the ground, hidden by blankets of darkness. It was 1 AM._

_"Girl! Help me!" The shape on the ground suddenly yelled out, little Jane screamed and covered her ears, shutting her eyes. She felt a hand gently on her arm, leading her back down the hallway._

_They reached her room and dad leaned down, giving her a hug, "Wait here, daddy will back in a moment."_

_He left back down the hallway and little Jane peaked out the gap in her door, another man met dad at the end of the hallway. Little Jane got scared and she quickly scurried to her bed and hid under the sheets as a low thunk sounded and finished with a thump._

_Her dad came back in moment later and took off his suit jacket, climbing into the bed with her and cradling her in his arms, "Its okay." He soothed._

"Jane."

Jane squeezed her eyes tight shut, not wanting to see the day yet. She didn't want to wake up.

"Jane!"

_Go away! I don't want to!_

"Jane, wake up." This time it was followed by something gently shaking her arm.

Her eyes snapped open to the touch, wild and distraught. She retaliated against the "attacker" and flung out an arm, whacking her assailant in the jaw.

A low yelp replied to the punch and the hand left, "Christ, Jane!"

This time the voice was familiar and she blinked, feeling the world come into proper focus, she saw a hazed out Sherlock clutching his mouth with an annoyed look on his face.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" Jane quickly stood up and went over to see the damage she had done, a fresh cut lay on the jawline, red and bleeding minimally.

She then realised he was standing up, he had got up to wake her up?

"Why did you get us, jesus Sherlock." She fretted, fingers lingering on the cut she had inflicted.

"You were clearly having a bad dream, it was annoying me. You wouldn't wake up to my calls." He shrugged, testing opening his mouth, it seemed fine.

"I'll be fine. I'll learn not to disregard your punching ability." He winced and felt along the cut, "What were you even dreaming about?"

Jane quickly looked away so he couldn't deduce anything and shrugged, telling him what she told everyone else who witnessed it, "I don't know, I can't really remember anymore." She lied, looking away and rubbing at her neck

He raised an eyebrow but said no more, instead hobbling back into his hospital bed, sighing as he say back down.

"Sore?"

"A little, I'll be fine." Sherlock said again, reaching over for a cup of water.

Jane walked over to the other side of the bed and took a seat in the chair after stretching, "How long was I out?"

"A while, visiting hours are nearly up. Speaking of visiting hours, where's John?"

She could have laughed at his incessant need for John, "He has work, you know. He comes by whenever he can."

"You have work too."

Her smile died, "Its only a library, I barely get any money, who cares?"

He had opened his mouth to say more but a nurse came in, "Sorry dear but the visiting hours are over, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Taking the opportunity to get out of the conversation, she waved at Sherlock and quickly slipped out. "I hope you're not too sore tomorrow, bye Sherlock!"

Once she was out of his calculating gaze she breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall. After a moment or two she starting walking out of the hospital, pulling on her coat and scarf. She felt her phone go off and pulled it out just as the battery completely died but she had managed to see the initials of - _SH_

"_God_." She muttered, stuffing it back in her pocket and hailing a cab.

* * *

The cab ride back was almost hard to bare, her legs bounced like usual when effected was anxiety and she kept fingering her dead phone. What was she meant to say? _I've only known you for a week but I'm giving up the only job I have left to sit in a hospital, which I hate, day by day with you cause' I think you're cool..._

Jane sighed and rested her head back on the leather seat of the taxi, what had he texted?

Her fingers came to her lips and she scraped her teeth over the nails in worry, _have I screwed everything up? _

_Screwed what up? You're not even friends._

Jane closed off her mind and instead picked at the fraying car seat, thinking about nothing really until her eyes shut and her breathing evened out.

_Jane was sat on the kitchen stall, lazily scrolling through her newsfeed on her phone as she heard the door open and a man walk in. She acknowledged him with a grunt._

_"How are we?" He asked, making his way past her to open the blinds in the dark flat._

_"I'm fine, I wouldn't say the same about the man just before but you know." She shrugged, "Who cares?"_

_There was a silence, indicating that the man had stopped moving, his voice was slightly louder. He was facing her. "You heard that." It was more of a statement than a question._

_"He said you were crazy." Jane replied simply, finally looking up._

_Her father narrowed his eyes but said nothing._

_"A psychopath." She added._

_At this he smiled, "Psychopaths aren't crazy."_

_There was a silence and then she eventually smiled too, "Of course not."_

"Ma'am- sorry. We've arrived." A strange voice interrupted her dream and she blinked awake, groggy, taking the time for logic to settle around her.

"Oh! Right, sorry. Thank you." Jane sleepily paid the cabbie and climbed out, standing outside 221B, she would have gone to her own flat but...it was cold and uninviting, plus she had stuff here...stuff she may need.

_Well that was a poor excuse at best._ She mentally kicked herself and sighed, walking up the door and using the spare key given to her by John before walking in, kicking the door closed.

Silence filled the flat, Mrs Hudson was probably out, she conceded. _I might just pop in to Toby then quickly. _Padding lightly across the floorboards, she gently opened Mrs Hudson's door and peeked in. Finding no one, she continued and tip toed cautiously about the room until she came across a sleeping lump of grey fur.

She grinned, "Hey Toby!" She cooed and walked over to stroke him, the resting cat did not wake and she decided to leave him to it knowing he was safe and warm.

Once she had closed the door and instead entered Sherlock and John's flat, she plugged in her phone charger and sighed, tired.

"I don't even know what's going on anymore. How does a socially anxious, generally anxious, weirdo like me end up living with two other guys within a week of knowing them? How did that even happen?!" Jane hissed, raking her fingers through her hair.

Eventually she gave up and turned to having a long, hot shower before hitting the hay, which ended up being Sherlock's bed without much thought.

As she lay there, worn out and tired but still unable to fall asleep, more thoughts swirled about in her head, _'You're casually sleeping in some guys bed." "Are you actually going to get anywhere with any if this?" "What if you have to go back to the library?" "What happened with you and Sherlock?" "Nothing happened!" "We're not even friends...just, sort-of-collegues."_

Jane let out an audible groan and slapped her hands over her eyes, willing for sleep but just as she was on the verge of it, finally, her phone dinged a few times with missed and new messages now that it had charged enough to receive.

The urge to check was near over whelming but she couldn't be bothered at all to get up, so she lay there considering her options.

She fell asleep.

"_They have the same eye colour?"_

_"Interesting."_

_"Really...?"_

_"They're both around the same age, both girls. Both alone at the time."_

_"Both apparent suicide but its not very convincing, who would go to the trouble of a murder if they couldn't even make it convincing enough to be able to save them?"_

_"Vet and a librarian. Huh, there's something odd there..."_

_"I can't put my finger on it."_

_"They don't have any links to each other by country, job or social interaction. What is the point?"_

_"What is with the brother?"_

"_Vet and a librarian...didn't I use to want to have those jobs as a child-_"Oh."

Jane's eyes fluttered open, bright light was streaming open from the still open window, it was clearly a new day and she had slept for rather a long time.

"Idiot." She whacked her forehead and swung her legs over the side of the bed, getting up and stumbling out to the kitchen, making a beeline for the case files.

She was completely oblivious to the other man in the room, who was now offering her a steaming cup of tea.

Perching on the arm rest of Sherlock's chair, she picked up the case file and flicked through it quickly, scanning the pages.

_Yes, Vet and Librarian._

_"Hey, just like you!" She remembered Sherlock say._

_Same eye colour...same eye colour. The eye colour seems slightly strange though, you don't really see that sort of colour- unless. _"Contacts!" She whispered.

"Sorry, what? Are you alright?" John's voice finally pierced through and she blinked, looking up confused.

"Oh, hi John."

"Yeah...hi. Something interesting?" He inquired, eyes narrowed as he made his way over.

"Maybe..." Jane didn't bother explaining, just accepted the cup of tea and continued on.

_I'm short sighed myself but I hardly wear my glasses and I hate contact lens's. If this case was somehow related to me, that would make no sense. Plus, why that colour? Maybe I'm just over reacting at the jobs._

_Both were alone...young, one with a good job and the other possibly still looking for work. One came from Russia...I like Russia._

_God dammit. Think!_

_Why would a serial killer pick these two girls? What if they're random and just happened to have the same contact lenses?_

_Coincidence- nope. Not real._

Her hands wrung out the fingers as she thought, tea forgotten. She got an idea and glanced over to her phone. _Maybe I could ask...He wouldn't mind would he? But then he'd ask questions, he doesn't know I'm on a case. Damn._

A tainting voice chimed in the back of mind, _For all we know, he probably did it._

_Shut up, he's not crazy! _She snapped back, bouncing her leg.

"Do you need anything? I'm going out to the shops, I'll be passing by Sherlock and probably staying a while, so..." John asked, coming into view. Dressed in a jumper and pants.

"Uhm..." Jane blinked and shook her head, "No thank you."

"Right, have...fun. See you later!" He called cheerfully and started out

"Tell him I said hi," She yelled after him weakly.

"Will do!"

The door closed and quiet fell upon the flat once more, she scraped at her lips. "Well damn."

A few dings rang about the room.

Her eyes flitted across the room to her phone, fully charged on the counter top, she swallowed and slowly unfolded her long legs from beneath her and trotted down from the arm rest and towards the phone.

Picking it up with unsure fingers, Jane unlocked the phone and opened her messages.

**Stay out of trouble - M**

**Why did you leave? - SH**

**Oh right, visiting hours. - SH**

**I hadn't been listening. - SH**

**Got anything on the case? I have a few ideas. About 7. - SH**

**Nope, make that 5. - SH**

**4... - SH**

**I'm bored, come back. - SH**

**BORED! - SH**

**Goodnight. - SH**

**John's here. How nice. - SH**

**Still bored. - SH**

**John just isn't the same anymore. I blame women. - SH**

**Nasty things. - SH**

**Not good? - SH**

**God I'm bored. - SH**

Jane couldn't hold back the slight laughs at each of the texts, she hadn't ruined anything. She had over reacted. _Like always._

She grinned and texted back,

**I'm getting the feeling you're bored. - J**

**Fantastic job. - SH**

**I thought so too. - J**

**Are you doing that sass thing again? - SH**

**'Thing' doesn't suit you for vocabulary use. - J**

**I'm bored. - SH**

**That's nice. The flat buzzer ringed, are you expecting anyone? - J**

Jane texted as she headed downstairs, barely looking up as she padded down the steps.

**Appalling grammar usage and I don't believe so. - SH**

She smiled, amused and locked her phone, reaching and opening the door. Jane froze and her eyes widened in shock.

The person at the door frowned, "I honestly thought I'd be greeted by somebody else."

The phone fell from her hands and clattered on the floor.

**Jane? - SH**

**Who was at the door? - SH**

**It better not be one of your friends. I don't want to go home finding streamers and empty beer bottles strewn everywhere. That already happened with John. - SH**

**I'm bored. Tell me. - SH**

**Jane? - SH**

_One missed call._

**Jane? - SH**

* * *

**_Oooh cliffy! A bit short...sorry. I shall update soon! Never fear! Reviews are much appreciated._**

**_Until ze next time ~_**


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